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POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Lately Published. 



THE ODYSSEY OF HOMER, 

TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE IX 
THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 

By PHILIP STANHOPE WORSLEY, M.A., 

Fellow of Corpus Christi College, Oxford. 
Two vols, crown 8vo, ISs. 



THE ILIAD OF HOMER, 

TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH TERSE IN 
THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 

BOOKS I. — XII. 

By PHILIP STANHOPE WORSLEY, M.A., 

BOOKS XII. — XXIV. 

By JOHN CONINGTON, M.A., 

Corpus Professor of Latin in the University of Oxford. 
Two vols, crown 8yo, 21s. 



William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh and London. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



BY 



V 



PHILIP STANHOPE WOESLEY, M.A. 



FELLOW OF CORPUS CHRISTI COLL., OXFORD 



SECOND EDITION, ENLARGED 



EDITED BY THE EEV. EDWABD WOESLEY 




WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 

EDINBUEGH AND LONDON 

MDCCCLXXV 



DEDICATION, 



My dear Mrs White, 

I hope you will pardon my wish to connect your 
name with the following poems. I can never forget that the 
perusal of them gave pleasure to your lamented husband, * and 
that he looked forward to their publication with that warm 
generosity of heart which led him to make the interests of a 
friend so completely his own. All who knew him, whether in 
his writings or by personal intercourse, will at once recall his 
genial wit and his liberal love of mankind ; but it is to that 
sacred depth in his character, which you alone on earth could 
thoroughly penetrate, but of which many must have been 
aware, that my thoughts recur at this moment. In dedicating 
to you what I have written, to him I dedicate it whose spirit 
was and still is so indivisibly one with yours. I have no fear 
that you will reject any affectionate tribute to his memory, 
however slight and valueless in itself the offering may be. 

Believe me, dear Mrs White, 

Most sincerely yours, 

P. S. WORSLEY. 
Mrs James White, Bonchurch, I. W. 



* Author of 'Eighteen Christian Centuries,' 'History of France/ &c. &e. 



P E E F A C E. 



The following poems were nearly all written 
several years ago, and evince, as I am well 
aware, much want of discipline and immaturity 
of power. It is my hope that kindly critics may, 
nevertheless, be able to detect in them the germ 
of something better, and that possibly with some 
readers they may have a permanent value of their 
own, if, as I have good reason to fear, my life 
should not be spared for future efforts * Of one 
thing I can feel assured, and that is, that I have 
resorted to no unworthy artifices in order to 
veneer trite reflections, or to veil a dearth of 
imagination. 

* He died on May 8, 1866. Some pieces written in tins 
interval will be found in the present edition. — [Ed.] 



Vlll PREFACE. 



It may be thought by some that concerning the 
personal subjects treated of in one or two of these 
poems it were better to have meditated much than 
to have spoken freely. Since, however, there is 
a large class of readers, to whom compositions 
of this kind are probably in their way useful, 
and being unable, on a conscientious review, to 
discover anything morbid in their tone, I have 
thought even these pieces on the whole worthy 
of preservation. 

The Translations will speak for themselves. 
They are faithful, and easily intelligible to all 
readers. 

Of the Latin hymns here rendered into English, 
the originals will, with one exception (the " Stabat 
Mater"),* be found in Dean Trench's valuable 
compilation of ' Sacred Latin Poetry/ 



1863. 



* And the "Heavenly Jerusalem," inserted in the present 
edition. — [Ed.] 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 
PHAETHON, • • . 1 

NARCISSUS, . . 23 

VERSUS AMOR, 31 

STRONG AS DEATH, 35 

WISDOM, . . . .47 

PROGRESS, 50 

STRENGTH, 54 

STANZAS, 59 

STANZAS, 61 

TO THE SOUTH, 63 

TO PRESIDENT DAVIS IN PRISON, 64 

LINES WRITTEN TO GENERAL LEE, 65 

EDITH, .67 

ERINNYS, . 91 

THE SEARCH, 94 

THE MEETING, 97 

MUSIC, 100 

THE CHARGE, ....... . .101 

MILTON, ........... 103 

STANZAS TO WORDSWORTH, . . . .- . . .104 

DOMINE, QUO VADIS? 109 

DE PROFUNDIS, .113 



CONTEXTS. 



SNOWDROPS, 

SPRING, . 

STANZAS, . 

STANZAS, . 

NIGHT, 

NIGHT, 

HADES, . 

SONNETS, . 

THE GRATE, 

THE TWO WILLS, 

THE GRIEF OF PLEASURES, 

HYMN FOR ADVENT, 

HYMN FOR THE ASCENSION, 

'ADH.ESTT PAYTMENTO,' 

f DE PROFUNDUS,' 

'DEFECIT ANIMA MEA,' 

1 MISERERE,' . 

l'enyoi, . 



HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE, 

LINES FROM SIMONLDES, 

CORNELIA, 

LINES FROM OVID, . 

FRAGMENT FROM OYID, 

EPIGRAM BY PLATO, 

THE RECANTATION, . 

THE MEAN, 

LOVE RENEWED, 

CIVIL WAR, 

HECTOR'S FAREWELL, 

LOYAL DEATH, . 



LATIOH 



117 

119 
121 

122 
124 
127 
135 
115 
149 
151 
153 
156 
161 
165 
166 
167 
16S 
169 



173 
179 
ISO 
1S3 
1S6 
186 
187 
'189 
192 
194 
196 
198 



CONTENTS. XI 



TRANSLATIONS OF SACRED PIECES. 



THE NATIVITY, .......... 203 

THE CROWN OF THORNS, 205 

STABAT MATER, . .... .... 208 

THE PASSION, 212 

THE CROSS, 215 

ST ANDREW TO THE CROSS, 217 

THE RESURRECTION, ........ 220 

THE RESURRECTION, 222 

EASTER HYMN, 225 

HYMN TO THE HOLY SPIRIT, 227 

TO THE HOLY SPIRIT, 229 

AD DOMINUM, 233 

THE HEAVENLY JERUSALEM, 235 

MAN, 242 

LOVE IN DEATH, 245 

THE DAY OF DEATH, 248 

FUNERAL HYMN, 251 

DIES IRiE, 255 



POEMS. 



PHAETHOE 

Noble in presence, though a cloud of grief 
Hung shadowy-dark upon his brows ; all else 
Eedundant with warm youth ; his radiant locks 
Fair as a girl's, when stealing shades embrown 
The wavy yellow, and the fine glint of gold, 
Like fire- dust, sparkles in her sunlit hair ; 
The while, from underneath his brooding brows, 
Flashed eager expectation, mixed with pain 
And wonder and delight — a surging sea, 
Phaethon by the Sun's great portals stood. 
There paused he, for a while incredulous 
Of that huge architecture piled by gods ; 



PHAETHOX. 

For such to earthly houses seemed that pile, 

As field or forest, when a bird escapes, 

To the one room which was his world. But soon 

He clomb the mighty threshold, and right on, 

Through court, and vestibule, and shining hall, 

And many a sweep of golden gallery, 

Fared, as men walk an unfamiliar road 

In dreams, not doubting — till he reached the King. 

Him found he throned beneath a mimic sky 
Caerulean, tricked with beaded adamant 
For stars, and here and there ethereal steam 
Curled into cloud, or what than snowy cloud 
Is fairer of the ambrosial mists that move 
In the god-haunted regions far from earth. 
There, in mid choir, the orb of Artemis, 
Lamp of the night, hung silvern, like that moon 
Watched through her tears by a deserted maid 
All night, who never tires of watching it, 
But feigns a friendliness in that cold eye, 
That only feeling heart in all the world. 
Such and so beautiful in form and face, 



PHAETHON. 

Most lustrous of her starry satellites, 

Shone the soft image of the lunar queen ; 

Who there and then had vanquished Phaethon 

With passion, but that his enraptured eyes 

Clung to the amber dais, and to him 

The sun-god, throned upon a lucent chair 

Of ivory, compact with studs of gold, 

Most wondrous; and beneath his raiment's hem 

Peered a rich work of pearl and chrysolith, 

Fit entertainment for the feet of gods. 

But all how void and bare to him that sat 

In night-imaginations, clothed with calm 

Unutterable, through all his ample heart 

Sated with office and the fierv cares 

That haunted his day-labour ! For, indeed, 

Couched in those large and melancholy eyes, 

Brooded an awful emphasis of rest, 

That tranquil self-perfection, without pain, 

Which, in their far-off musings, mortal men, 

Though eloquently nurtured, find no name 

Wherewith to name, not even in sacred verse. 

So that, in sense and soul preoccupied 






4 PHAETHOX. 

With state thus grand, the child of Clyinene 

Knew not, nor heeded if he knew, the Hours 

Discoursing harp with harp celestial song ; 

Xor where the Seasons stood with lifted arms 

Columnar to the broad blue canopy — 

Spring flowery-zoned, and Summer wreathed with corn, 

Autumn with vine-blood splashed from heel to thigh, 

And Winter, bending over beard of snow. 

So, ere he well returned into himself 

From the weird influx of those dreamy orbs, 

Went forth the voice of Phoebus : — " Phaethon, 

Hither of mortal foot the first arrived, 

Not strange, to no inhospitable halls 

Thou comest ; rather as a child comes back 

Prom distant lands, this many a year desired. 

Falsely he spake, who taught that Deity 

Hath force to override a father's love. 

I too have marked, 'mid yonder evil brood, 

Dark under-questionings, and ill surmise, 

Tamper in secret with thy name and mine. 

Heard have these ears the open taunts of men, 

Who brand me in their petty blasphemies 



PHAETHON. 5 

The forged pretext of thy mother's shame, 

Bid thee go prove thy bright original. 

Courage ! thou shalt not hence without a boon, 

One that may well their slanderous tongues confound. 

Thou from these realms demand whatever gift, 

And I thy father will see justice done. 

Spare not, but ask — I swear by ninefold Styx, 

Dread oath, inviolable to gods and men." 

Then leapt the heart of Phaethon for joy ; 
For now before him, circumstantial, true, 
Loomed the fulfilment of old phantasies 
Nourished in early boyhood, on the banks 
Of rivers or in bowery solitudes, 
Whether by thought mapped out, or lighted on 
Through lofty visitation felt in sleep ; 
And readily he drew near unto his sire 
And spake, appealing to that swerveless oath : 

" My father, for thy words rhyme well with hope 
Not questionless till now, if this be true, 
And I thy child indeed, sprung from thy loins, 



6 PHAETHOX. 

Shame were it to respond unroyally 
To thy most royal prelude, and to ask 
Aught facile or profanely pitched too low 
Tor thy large heart and the reflected pomp 
TTkereof to-day I am called an inheritor. 
That were an argument of craven blood, 
Hot worthy my great lineage. Eut do thou 
Make me but once the splendid charioteer 
Vicegerent of thy wain, the lamp of worlds ; 
So shall my vast renown of embassage 
Flash wide conviction both on gods and men, 
And those false tongues put down eternally 
Who vex the child of the Eternal Sun." 

He ended \ but the brows of Phoebus lowered ; 
And, stung with the anguish of a god, he spake : 






" Child, thou hast asked a hard and perilous thing, 
A thing to be denied even to Zeus. 
Woe worth the moment when I swore by Styx 
To this most dire completion of a will 
So wayward ! Thou hast asked a boonless boon, 



PHAETHON. 

Not knowing that thou dost aspire to die, 
Scared with a ruinous elemental roar 
Too late, and sepulchred in floods of fire. 
For who of mortal or immortal brood 
May wield at will the horses of the Sun, 
Not lightly tamed even by me their lord 1 
glean a little wisdom while thou mayest ! 
Is there not somewhere something to be found, 
Sufficient to surpass this fatal boon 1 " 

So Phoebus • but the child of Clymene 
Stood firm, appealing to the swerveless oath ; 
And all night long Apollo, with knit brows, 
Heavy of soul and sore disquieted, 
Through his wide palace wandered up and down ; 
And, like the erring phantasm of a man 
Slain traitorously and cast into the deep, 
Who, for the dread want of a little earth, 
Cannot find rest, so rest was none for him. 
But the other, dreaming of the day's emprise, 
Couched without care and in the bloom of sleep, 
Lay till the early twilight, then rose up 



8 PHAETHON. 

Flushed for the boon, and found his glorious sire 

Pacing beneath a pillared portico, 

Still pausing when he passed the silver plains 

Of two huge valves, embossed with graven gold, 

Work of Hephaestus, and descript with all 

Which earth and heaven and Nereid-haunted deep 

Foster in wave or field or azure sky. 

And ever as he paused he sighed, as if 

Boding but little good to anything 

In earth or heaven or Nereid-haunted deep. 

Soon conscious of his child, he turned, and there 

Urging divine dissuasion, half in tears, 

Spake ; but that other would not. And they moved 

Together, led by rosy-fingered Dawn, 

In silence, till they reached the empyreal gates, 

Which, to weird lutes receding, gave to view 

Authentic heaven surpassing voice or dream. 

For lo ! the awful chariot of the Sun 

Flaring upon their front, itself a sun, 

Wrought from metallic ores unutterable ; 

And all the streaming surface inters own 

With rainbow flames of keen-eyed jewellery, 



PHAETHON. 9 

And the long burnished axle thick with gold, 
And wheels, a countless order, each like each, 
Armed with a central star, and diamond-rimmed, 
Blinding to men, save whom the gods keep whole. 
For as with us plain earth is soiled and dull, 
Matched with the marquetry of Indian kings, 
So blurred and swarthy to celestial gems 
Are earth-born ruby, pearl, or amethyst, 
Opal, and tender sapphire, queen of stones. 
Far up the vault a dazzling pavement, arched 
Of diamond, chymic wonder, tracked with lines 
Thrice-glistering, the diurnal route of wheels, 
Scaled to the zenith ; and on either side 
The myriad constellations sprang like flowers 
Glassed in the cloudless hyaline. Anon 
Came forth that famous team caparisoned, 
Four, and each fulminous with glancing name, 
Yet childlike each to the light-handed Hours 
Who held him. Twain about the golden pole, 
Obsequious to long use, their station took, 
And twain, with gleaming traces, in the van ; 
And in a moment they were linked for speed. 



10 PHAETHON. 

But Phaethon stood silent — that white reach 
Thwarting the blue serene, a belt of fire, 
And all the flaming equipage unrolled, 
In their essential lustre, form, and size, 
So far transcended the pale counterfeit 
Nursed in his dream : and once he half drew back 
For terror ; nor the faint recoil escaped 
The Sun-god, who made parley yet once more : 

" Son, for thine hour is coming, not yet come, 
Let for dear life a noble prudence trench 
On blind unwisdom rushing to its doom. 
My from this venture — for I know that Death 
Will ride at thy right hand upon the car. 
Yet, yet, take warning; ask another boon." 

He ended ; but the child of Clymene, 
Through shame and curst ambition, stood to his quest. 
And the god, condescending to his child, 
Smeared face and hands and raiment with a chrism 
Known to none else, most sovereign to repel 
Tempestuous inroad of the fiery clime 



PHAETHON. 11 

Breathed by that fierce quaternion in the front, 

And dashed in billowy flame from the echoing wheels ; 

Then, breathing on the brows, made all his mien 

Godlike, severe, and large to look upon, 

And placed the glittering rein age in his hands, 

And helped him to his throne upon the car ; 

But, ere he parted, spake a farewell word : 

" Slack not the rein, nor from tense watch decline 
Thine eyelids, lest thou find a doom not sought, 
Maugre this fire-proof chrism and godlike mien. 
For know that underneath thee, where thou goest, 
Swims earth, far-planted in the vacuous gulf, 
Whose yawning interval both knees and brain 
Sickens. A league above this pontal arc, 
!N"ow seeming one with heaven, the dizzy sphere 
Bolls a pernicious round, swarming with stars — 
Bale overhead, and deep bale at thy feet. 
In temperate self-distrust thy safety dwells. 
Swerve not a hair lest thou abandon life. 
Me heaven's revolving fabric all day long 
Here in palatial splendour shall waft round, 



12 PHAETHON. 

Skirting the wide horizon, till I meet, 

If the Fates will, thy duly westering wheels. 

So night shall be divine indeed, while we 

Slide with melodious music, unaware, 

Back to these roseate realms, where men behold 

Daily the soft sweet horizontal lights 

Slow-deepening into spears of tender flame. 

Farewell ! may happy omens speed thy path ! " 

He ended ; and the Hours with one accord 
Stept sideways, and let go the willing steeds. 

Then soberly and well did Phaethon 
Hoard up and use that warning of the god, 
" Slack not the rein, nor from tense watch decline 
Thine eyelids " — so he watching slacked not rein, 
But, from the godlike increase given to him, 
Maintained an equal nerve, though sore afraid ; 
2for even thus with all his power had curbed 
That chivalry divine, but that the god 
Infused a soul more governably mild 
For that one voyage, making their defect 



PHAETHON. 13 

Somewhat incline, for easier vassalage, 

To his son's lifted virtue. So he passed 

Safe on his course, and all the heaven drank light, 

And, touched with splendour, wine-dark ocean smiled, 

Heaving with ships, black hull and snow-white sail ; 

And each land went to its accustomed work, 

Of peace where peace, and war where there was war, 

Nor omen of disaster rose at all, 

Till, as he neared the blazing cope of noon, 

Where the steeds flagged a little, as is their wont, 

For steeper seems a hill just ere the bend — 

Even at the point where Nature seems to pause 

And listen while the sultry hour goes by — 

Flat weariness ached through him, and he thought 

How boonless were the boon if this were all ; 

Nor did he cease repeating to himself, 

" How worthless is the boon if this be all ! 

Broad is the way ; the steeds are tame enough." 

Till, hungered with hot zeal, he seized the thong ; 

Then whirled it, curling it beneath the flank 

Of the two van ward ; thence with sharp recoil 

Crossing the arched necks of the hindmost two. 



14 PHAETHOX. 

And lo ! the sudden insult dug like steel 
Into the one heart of the fiery four, 
They in a moment knew the vulgar hands 
That held them, and their lordly eyes wept fire 
For anger at the ungenerous pilotage ; 
And each dilated nostril panted fire, 
And the sides, heaving through their sleek expanse, 
Stared with a nohle horror, foaming fire ; 
"While, raving up the causeway, hoof and wheel, 
With screams and anvil- thunder, a deafening din, 
Eained earthward and to heaven a storm of fire. 
So to the summit, from whose brows the team, 
Thrice-maddening, prone adown the diamond arc 
Swept, and a triple whirlwind of white fire, 
Blown skyward, sloped upon the charioteer ; 
Whom yet the chrism preserved invulnerable, 
Xor even his eyelids faltered in white fire ; 
But as a sick man stares, who, from some wound 
Smit with red fever and delirious dream, 
Thinks himself bound upon a wheel of fire, 
Whirling, whirling for ever, and passes through 
Cycles of anguish ere his eye can wink — 



PHAETHON. 15 

So, with like fascination, in the eyes 

Of Phaethon was fixed a straining stare, 

Yea, one to be remembered afterwards 

By any that had seen it, man or god. 

And though his brain shook, yet he could not wink ; 

And though his brain reeled, yet he could not fall. 

Fixed were his feet, and o'er the ebbing reins 

Drooped the spent fingers from the nerveless wrist, 

Yet motionless and with no quivering drooped, 

He standing like a statue of pale Fear ; 

While louder and more loud the affrighted stars 

Cried from their burning vault, or seemed to cry, 

Doom in his ears, and anger and fell revenge. 

Then Ganges and a troop of Eastern streams 
Fled backward, each one to his cradle cave ; 
Then the tall glaciers of the Polar Zone 
Flushed crimson to the roots of their cold realm ; 
For all the fir-crowned Scandinavian hills 
Night-shrouded half the months, tier over tier, 
Blazed in the gloomy North, like beacon-hells 
Lit for world-wasting Furies who bear clown^ 



> PHAETHON. 

In convoy, with wild omens of the end. 
And all the peopled plains sent up a smoke 
Of harvests reaped by fire, and flaming towns, 
Till the hot clamour of those masterless wheels 
Rang deadlier, mingled with the loud-voiced curse 
Of men by myriads overcome with hell. 
And a long cry came to the ears of Zeus, 
Where in full conclave of the gods he sat ; 
And, while he doubted, a great rainy heat 
Fell slant and sudden on the Olympian walls, 
And all the ceiling glared like molten gold, 
And the rich cloisters like a forest glowed 
Of resinous pines, with every trunk ablaze. 
And Zeus and all the gods rose up together, 
And saw the wide earth smoke, and the Sun's car, 
Wrecked by false rule of ignominious hands, 
Flare from the crystal zenith a long white flare. 
And lo ! a change in the great Father's eye 
Flashed darkly, and his face a moment writhed 
With anger, as when taint of iron-rust 
Writhes hideously a drinker's lips, anon 
Whitened with cold inexorable wrath. 






PHAETHON. 17 

Mute stood the gods, while each in blank suspense 
Stared on his fellow, wondering what should come. 
He, turning to a sheaf of thunderbolts 
Which lay there, piled for use, in the council-hall, 
Chose one, thrice tempered, in itself a sheaf, 
Needing no second to enforce the doom ; 
Then leaning from his tower — " So perish all 
Wild upstarts swoln with empire not their own " — 
Shot once. And Phaethon, caught in mid career, 
And hurled from the Sun to utter sunlessness, 
Like a flame-bearded comet, with ghastliest hiss, 
Fell headlong in the amazed Eridanus, 
Monarch of streams, who on the Italian fields 
Let loose, and far beyond his flowery lips 
Foam- white, ran ruinous to the Adrian deep. 
And still the unbalanced chariot flared right on, 
Till, from the main line swerving, the vast heap 
Fenceless, and falling a stupendous fall, 
Horses and chariot, in the Western Sea 
Plunged, and the rushing shower of that fell hiss, 
Heard ghastlier than a myriad-throated storm 

B 



18 PHAETHON. 

Of Pythons strangled in their noisome lair, 
Seemed to drink np with lips the shuddering world. 

Scarce had the sound expired, ere gods and men 
Heard wonderingly a beat of iroii wings ; 
For Darkness, with a beat of iron wings, 
Vaunting herself sole mistress of the world, 
Sprang from that watery pyre; and heaven grew 

black 
Before her, and man's earth, being breathed upon, 
Smouldered in silence till the fires died out. 
Dark was that night and long, as is the length 
Of two nights and a summer day between ; 
And all the while men saw not with their eyes 
The face of wife or child or friend or foe, 
And all the while men spake not each to each. 
But as a captive, in some gloom-bound cell 
Under the level of a stormy lake, 
Feels that the roof has shifted and the walls, 
And, where he finds himself, there crouches down 
Mute, and in horror lest his blood's quick beat 
Bive up the ruin and let in the lake — 



PHAETHON. 19 

So, with clenched hands, they, crouching whisperless, 
Feared lest a heart- vibration should unbind 
Loud dooms that rocked in ambush overhead. 

Meanwhile Apollo, through that dire eclipse, 
Dwelt in the dim light of his azure halls, 
Likest in beauty to the perfect form 
Stamped on the soul of some great statuary 
Waking and sleeping, who with touch divine 
Breathes life and love into the chill dead stone, 
And warms it with the warmth of his own soul ; 
Till some one finds him in the cold grey dawn 
Laid mute by the mute marble, his long toil 
Just ended, and the mighty brain at rest. 
Like to that dream which made the dreamer die, 
So proud, so beautiful in pensive pain, 
Sat Phoebus, veiled in dark divinity, 
Dreadly repentant, as a god repents, 
Nor yet so wholly wrapt in self-remorse, 
But that at times his gloomy reins would feel 
Wild frenzies, ruminant of wrong to Zeus, 
Zeus saviour of the world by that one stroke. 



20 PHAETHON. 

But loss is loss, though worlds be profited, 
And deep love will remember, there and here. 

But when the long dread night was overpast, 
Came to Eridanus, the lord of streams, 
Clymene, and the weeping Heliades ; 
And Phaethon they found, or what seemed he, 
There, with his eyes in ashes, and the once 
So radiant locks by cruel thunder scathed, 
Becumbent in the reeds, a charred black mass, 
Furrowed with trenchant fire from head to foot. 
Whom yet with reverent hands they lifted up, 
And bare him to the bank, and washed the limbs 
In vain ; and, for the burnt shreds clinging to him, 
Bobed the cold form in raiment shining white. 
Then on the river-marge they scooped a grave, 
And laid him in the dank earth far apart, 
Xear to none else ; for so the dead lie down, 
AVhom Zeus, the Thunderer, hath cut off by fire. 
And on the tomb they poured forth wine and oil, 
And sacrificed much substance thirty days. 
Xor failed they to record in distich due 



PHAETHON. 21 

How from a kingly venture kingly fall 
Resulted, and a higher than human fame. 
And there, amid those comely services, 
Brake into song the weeping Heliades : 

" that much sighing could these lips restore, 
And make them bloom with kisses as before ! 
But Phaethon returns no more, no more ! " 

And answer made the childless Clymene : 

" that this love, which on thy welfare fed, 
Could with new pangs renew that lovely head ! 
My Phaethon, my child, is dead, is dead ! " 

And yet again the weeping Heliades : 

" to be guided to that sunless shore, 
There clasp the glimmering phantom o'er and o'er ! 
Since Phaethon returns no more, no more ! " 

And once more sang the childless Clymene : 

" if to that dark land I might be led, 



22 PHAETHON. 

Loose his dear life, and leave mine own instead ! 
My Phaethon, my child, is dead, is dead ! " 

So ever sang the weeping Heliades, 
And so made answer childless Clymene. 
Cycnns the while, half brother and whole friend, 
Sat housed in lamentation far apart, 
Brooding alone, discomfited with ills. 
He oft in the night season, chill with stars, 
Sat moaning in the thickets, and by day 
Sat moaning in the thickets, till his voice, 
By reason of long sorrow, conceived a key 
Sweeter than any harp : and tales grew rife 
Of him that sang so sweetly. Dream in peace ; 
Yea, waste thyself long while in tender song, 
Cycnus ; — the bending woods listen for love, 
And old Ericlanns flows faint with sound. 
But ah me ! for thou singest in vain, in vain ! 
Heart-cold is Persephassa, and her ear 
Cold, and impenetrable by plaintive song ; 
Cold is the dust of thy familiar friend ; 
All, save thine own deep heart, for ever cold ! 



23 






ISTAKCISSUS. 

Like as some solitary woodland flower, 
Far out of reach upon a perilous ledge, 
Flaunts its rich colours in a maiden's eyes, 
And seems more fair because desired in vain, — 
So he, a stream-god's son, more beautiful 
Than all his peers, serene and passionless, 
Lived whole of heart, in scornful self- delight 
Vacant for ever. Love, that comes to all, 
Sought not nor found him. Many raving words, 
The multiplied despair of aching hearts, 
Thickened around him, and he heeded not ; 
Ay, though enamoured Echo, woodland nymph, 
Pursuing him with love, filled the deep air, 
The caves, and the bleak rocks, valleys and hills, 
With murmurs meaningless to none save him, 
Wasting away till she became a voice, 



24 NARCISSUS. 

Vague, incorporeal. — And thus it went, 
Till one who also loved hirn all in vain 
Uttered this dying curse : — " So let him love 
A fiery love, and, loving, not enjoy i " 

And the suns travelled till there came a day, 
When, heated from the chase and tired with toil, 
Whether of chance, or by some envious Fate 
Misguided, he bore on with flagging steps 
Unto a pure cold fount, where never bird 
Xor mountain-goat frequented, clothed around 
With fresh green turf, and secret from the sun. 
Thither no devious track of mortal feet 
Led through the shady labyrinth of wood ; 
No sound of shepherds, calling from the bowers 
With melody of flute or vocal play, 
Made welcome for the weary flocks at noon ; 
Only the immemorial silences 
Kept haunt for ever on those flowery floors, 
Where the sweet summers ever came and went, 
And went and came, and even from the bees 
Year after year their customary spoil 



NARCISSUS. 25 

Concealed, as in a secret treasure-house. 

And there, in evil hour slaking his thirst, 

He in his spirit conceived a thirst tenfold, 

Which water could not quench. For, as he drank, 

Leaning to the cold lymph, he saw therein 

The phantom of himself clear as the life, 

The mirrored white and red upon his cheek, 

The loose locks clustering round his snowy neck, 

Full of divinest beauty — saw and loved. 

Love ! thou art the theme of many songs ; 
And some have thought thee but a froward boy, 
Eisking thy random arrows here and there, 
Careless who suffer from thy pastime wild : 
Some paint thee pensive and serene of mood, 
Gentle, with very heaven upon thy face, 
Planting the deadly nightshade at the heart, 
Whereof men die, and leave wild words behind, 
And melancholy music strange to hear. 
But whether thou wert born in Ehodope, 
And sharp winds sang around thy couch of snow, 
And thy young heart grew hard among the hills— 



26 NARCISSUS. 

Or, cradled in the warmth of tropic isles, 

The softnesses of life corrupted thee, 

Till, to wear out the languid summer hours, 

Thou couldst not but be cruel to mankind — 

Or whencesoever or of whom thou art — 

Herein thou wast supremely merciless, 

That the twin shafts, whose piercing should create 

A mutual sympathy in different hearts, 

Thou without pity at one single breast 

Didst aim too surely, so that wild desire 

Tended to no sweet haven, but must rave 

In desolate unrest without a home ! 

Ah ! there and then hot hope, with eager eye, 
Sprung from that first fierce hunger in his blood, 
Mashed change upon his face, and o'er his soul 
Boiled moments like to years. Ah ! then and there 
Were passionate strivings with extended arms 
To fold a shadow ; and he sought not rest 
Xor food ; the hours went on • and still he lay, 
Gazing upon the form that answered him 
With silent gestures, silent moving lips, 



NARCISSUS. 27 

Seeming to mean a not unequal love, 
Till the truth dawned upon him, and he knew 
Himself alone of all to his own heart 
Was cruel — for himself was his own love, 
Himself his own despair. Then in his ear 
Sudden there spake, or seemed to speak, a voice : 
" Life without love, or with a love unreaped, 
Makes every hour a death ; but death comes once. 
Better to die, for death will make an end." 

Then spake he, weaving his own funeral dirge, 
Accents whose wildness might unnerve the rage 
Of wolves that wander in the Hercynian glens, 
Boll back the rivers from their seaward march, 
And rive compassion from the core of rocks : 
" forests, dreaming of the years of old, 
Ask of your branches, whether green or sere, 
Whether by night or day, in calm, in storm, 
They may remember any love like mine. 
Love, dread Love, I know thee — but too late : 
Come, feast thine eyes ; thou art indeed avenged ! " 
And lovelorn Echo, startling at the cry, 



28 NARCISSUS. 

Paused in her bower a moment, then took up 
The shrill-toned sorrow, and from hill to hill 
Tossed it in mocking mood, until the voice 
Failed in the far-off clouds — Avenged ! Avenged ! 

So when the Sun unyoked his flaming steeds, 
And through the glimmering silence, calm and slow, 
The dark world drifted to the bourne of sleep, 
Came the death-angel in the cool of eve, 
Who seals impermeable to life and light 
The charm-constrained orbs, and solemnly 
O'er the lost lover bending in the gloom, 
Touched the pale brow with ceremonial wand. 
Whence a sad wonderment, the pain of dreams, 
Hung round his tranced spirit like a mist ; 
And all about him snatches of old songs, 
Heard in old hours among the Oreades, 
Mixed with a meaning never felt before, 
Moated— dark legends of mysterious love 
Unhappy, and of hope for ever fallen, 
Fallen for ever, like his own — and still 
Haunted him more than all a simple strain 



NARCISSUS. 29 

Sung by Liriope, the naiad-nymph, 

His mother, how a maiden golden-haired, 

Trusting to treachery and led by love, 

Followed a stranger from her father's halls : 

' She like a rose just opening into bloom, 

' Which one hath paused in passing to admire, 

' Anon hath gathered, and against his heart 

6 Worn for a little hour, then cast away 

' For ever, and remembers it no more ; 

' But all the while it lieth where it fell, 

' Silently drooping on an alien earth, 

' Alone, unpitied of the passers-by ; 

' Nor any more availeth that the showers 

' Strive with sweet influences to lend it life, 

1 And golden suns caress it as of old ; 

' 'Not to have been in native loveliness 

* First among flowers availeth any more, 

' So lowly doth it lie, so far hath fallen ' — 

Here Echo seemed to answer — Fallen ! Fallen ! 

Slowly and sad, like one that hath her wish, 

And finds it other than she hoped, not gain, 

But bitterest loss — which when the dying heard, 



30 NARCISSUS. 

The pulses of his heart grew faint and still, 
The life-stream halted and then ehbed away ; 
From limb to limb crept the damp languor cold • 
And he lay silent in a seeming sleep, 
Moveless like marble, with unlighted eyes 
Changelessly fastened on the crystal pool, 
And countenance snow-cold, which even in death 
Bore impress of unutterable desire. 

Then, after twilight, the stars one by one 
Peered from the broad blue curtain of the heavens, 
And the blanched delicate features of the dead 
Showed whiter in the broken misty light. 
There he lay all night long, until the birds 
Sang in the mirthful morning, and the sun, 
Piercing a slant path through the woven green, 
Rested upon a flower, ambrosial, sweet, 
Alone in grace among the forest flowers ; 
And therein lay embalmed the love, the life, 
Of that bright being, who but yesterday 
AVas Beauty's youngest-born upon the earth. 



31 



VEKSUS AMOR 

Changed love forsooth in me you fear. 

Go to : — no whited tale I ask, 

~No mocking ineffectual mask ; 

The coarse plain truth shall serve us here. 

All sin forgive save loss of gold ; 

This cursed creed hath priests of old ; 

For this my love is counted cold. 

When first I saw thee face to face, 
That careless summer years ago, 
Why never whispered friend or foe 
One warning of this dire disgrace ? 
Weak wish ! — few words the sequel tell : 
My pomp of outward fortune fell ; 
Yet this could I sustain, and well. 



32 VERSUS AMOR. 

Constant to minister in pain, 

True woman would have loved me more. 

This reckless hollow dream is o'er ; 

I kneel to no false star again. 

Yes, recreant slave, take back thy vow ; 

Earth's choicest crown about thy brow 

Were bribe too mean to tempt me now. 

For suffering, that doth make men wise, 
Came thunder-like, and shook my sleep. 
I rose ; I bought experience cheap. 
God sent the gift of open eyes. 
I thank Him thou art not my wife, 
To load the lagging years with strife, 
To damn me in my dream of life. 

Henceforth I neither love nor hate ; 
Thou art a thing forgotten, dead. 
This painful arrow, swiftly sped, 
Hath saved my soul ere yet too late. 
♦Let him who seeks thy spouse to be 
Fetter the winds and reap the sea, 
But hope not love from thine or thee. 



VERSUS AMOR. 33 

I curse not now thy lust of pelf — 
Thou, in thy dearth of pure desire 
Selling thy very heart for hire, 
Art curse sufficient to thyself. 
Guilt's secret stab shall find thee yet, 
Though not this sin thy conscience fret, 
Though me thy narrow soul forget. 

And never hug thyself in this 
Blind hope of impotent revenge, 
That I, too sick to care for change, 
Shall feed despair with buried bliss. 
Not so — a laxger heart than thine 
Shall to one music blend with mine 
In love thou never canst divine. 

Once and for aye thy toils are torn ; 
I am not thine to slay or spare. 
From far-off fields of wider air 
Thee and thy selfish peers I scorn. 
Go, vilely reap thy share of earth ; 
I yet believe in woman's worth, 
Where deeper love hath holier birth, 
c 



34 VERSUS AMOR. 

Farewell, without a farewell kiss ; 

I leave thee here alone with crime. 

Yet, for the sake of olden time, 

I would that I could teach thee this : 

Search the wide world, and thou shalt find 

No penury of baser kind 

Than this thou hoardest in thy mind. 



35 



STKONG AS DEATH. 

Go thou hence, and make her 

Thine for evermore ; 
Bind my cherished day-dream 

To thy home and heart. 
Thou hast health and riches \ 

I am sick and poor ; 
Yet I would say something — 

Listen, ere we part. 

In the morning twilight, 

In the stillness deep, 
When they say that visions 

Speak with tongue divine, 
I from long night-watchings 

Fallen into sleep, 



36 STRONG AS DEATH. 

Dreaming on my pillow, 
Saw thy love and mine. 

She with bended eyelids, 

Sad, yet passing sweet, 
Came in angel aspect, 

White and like a star — 
White, save where the life-pulse 

Slowly toward her feet 
Fed with secret streamings 

One long crimson bar. 

If thine after-hardness, 

If thy love grown dim, 
Paled that face of sorrows, 

Wrung that bleeding heart, 
Well may Nature wipe thee 

From the world's great hymn ; 
'Twere a shame so burning 

That the stones would start 

Treat her with affection 
Lest thou hear of me, 






STRONG AS DEATH. 37 

Lest a quick pursuer 

Sailing in thy wake, 
Lest a dark avenger 

On thy summer sea, 
Armed with indignation, 

Smite thee for her sake. 

Feed not the delusion 

That dead men forget ; 
Surely I shall see thee, 

Know thee, and come down ; 
If thou cause her sorrow 

Thou shalt pay the deht, 
While thick-woven curses 

Clasp thee like a crown. 

Cursed when thou wakest, 

Cursed in thy sleep, 
Cursed in the day-time, 

Cursed in the night ; 
So thy life shall languish 

In corrosion deep, 



38 STRONG AS DEATH. 

Till the death-fiend call thee 
And thy soul take flight. 



Gocl ! what maddening fury 

Drives my dragon breast, 
TThile the dark dread shadows 

Thicken round my room, 
While the faint lip quivers 

Ere the last cold rest, 
Thus to hint of cursings 

On my couch of doom? 

How can dreams discredit 

One whom God made true, 
Write a man disloyal 

Who can feel and love ? 
'Twas an envious anger 

Burned me through and through, 
\Vhile I seemed to hearken 

Voices from above. 



STRONG AS DEATH. 39 

Ah! "this fire within me 

Spake I know not what — 
Stand a little nearer — 

Bathe my dying brow — 
Be the doubt I fastened 

On thy faith forgot, 
And the love remembered 

Which would warn thee now ! 

Thou this friendly warning 

Take in friendly part, 
Nor, when I sleep silent, 

Let the word go by — 
Not alone unkinclness 

Eends a woman's heart ; 
Oft through subtler piercings 

Wives and mothers die. 

Though the cord of silver 

Never feel a strain, 
Though the golden language 

Cease not where ye dwell, 



40 STRONG AS DEATH. 

Yet remaineth something 
Which, with its own pain, 

Breaks the finer bosom 

Whence true love doth well. 

If the ends he diverse 

For the which ye live, 
If, while she yearns ever 

To the far away, 
Thou thy coarser feelings 

To the world dost give, 
And with labour heapest 

Treasures which decay — 

This would plant sore trouble 

In that breast now clear, 
And with meaning shadows 

Mar that sun-bright face. 
See that no earth-poison 

To thy soul come near ! 
Watch ! for like a serpent 

Glides that heart-disgrace. 






STRONG AS DEATH. 41 

Hark ! the wind loud-sweeping 

Eears a voice I know ; 
Hark ! it calls my spirit 

To a land of gloom. 
As that storm sinks dying, 

Life's lamp waxes low ; 
Ere that storm is ended, 

I must meet my doom. 

Shall there fall true sorrow 

On my timeless grave ? 
False or true, what matter, 

Since the Lord is just ! 
Mercy, not men's mourning, 

Hath the power to save, 
When the wheel is broken, 

And when dust is dust. 

this life how pleasant, 

To be loved and love ! 
Yet, should love's hope wither, 

Then to die were well, 



42 STRONG AS DEATH. 

Steeled with trust that something 
Will be given above, 

More than lost remembrance 
Of our earthly hell. 

Kneel, thou blest of heaven, 
While I yet draw breath ; 

Pray we once together 
For thy virgin flower — 

Once before thy marriage, 
Once before my death — 
Kneel, for very quickly 

Strikes the iron hour. 

I can pray with pureness 

For her welfare now, 
Since the yearning waters 

Bravely were pent in. 
God — He saw me cover 

"With a careless brow 
Signs that might have told her 

Of the work within. 



STRONG AS DEATH. 43 

Ask to be found worthy 

Of God's choicest gift, 
Not by wealth made reckless, 

Nor by want unkind ; 
Since on thee dependeth 

That no secret rift 
Mar the deep life-music 

Of her guileless mind. 

Then let this toiled spirit 

Pass to the Most High, 
Clothed in ghostly silence, 

Out of human ken ! 
Be our farewell finished, 

Leave me here to die, 
In the self-same moment 

That I breathe " Amen ! " 



Is the wind not fallen 1 
Doth my brain yet burn ? 



44 STRONG AS DEATH. 

Is he gone for ever ? 

Am I quite alone ? 
Whose is that dire presence 

Passing by so stern ? 
Comes the King of Terrors 

Thus to claim his own ? 

What ! this dark destroyer 

Comes not as we dream — 
In my brain a furnace, 

In my bones fierce fire ! 
While the heart, tormented 

With the refluent stream, 
Fails in pain, help, Father, 

Ere thy child expire ! 

Keep these flickering senses 
Self-contained and clear, 

W r hich, when life shone sweetest, 
Passion's whirl defied. 

Take these phantom voices 
From my dying ear, 



STRONG AS DEATH. 45 

Voices of the bridegroom, 
Voices of the bride ! 

If I love too dearly 

One who lives below, 
Yet I never wholly 

Eazed thee from my breast. 
Lead me, scared and shaken, 

From this house of woe ; 
Hide me, Lord, and heal me 

In some bourne of rest ! 

When my youth was younger 

That is now grown sere, 
Thou didst fence with pity 

One who knew thee not ; 
In my last wild anguish 

Shall thine ear not hear 1 
Shall thine eye glance heedless 

Over this one spot 1 

Who is this that bendeth 
O'er my bed so pale, 



46 STRONG AS DEATH. 

Such, as I have seen him 
In some painting old % 

let no more spectres 
That sweet aspect veil — 

Lift me, gentle Shepherd, 
Eear me to thy fold ! 

Yes, the vague earth-passions 

Feed a grander love, 
And the soul expandeth 

Ere the life's last beat — 
Yes, the conflict endeth ; 

There is help above — 
Though to die was bitter, 

Yet is dying sweet ! 



47 



WISDOM. 

Who loveth wisdom loveth life ; 

Who finds her finds a hidden pearl. 
Far from the roll of vulgar strife, 

The tumult and the whirl, 
A cloudy pillar is her throne. 
Mingling with all things, yet alone, 
Queenlike she watches from the towers of Time, 
Clothed in an immortality sublime. 

Her empire is above, below ; 

Her eyelids slumber not nor sleep; 
Through life's wide systems breathe and grow 

Her musings high and deep, 
And ever deeper, ever higher. 
Her words are like a lamp of fire 



48 WISDOM. 

Sowing with light dim worlds that none hath sown, 
Searching the silence of the dark unknown. 

Her spirit is not bent to earth ; 

Not hers to dream the hours away ; 
Seeing the secret of her birth 

She learneth how to pray ; 
Her mind is in an even health, 
Constant in sorrow, meek in wealth ; 
Her lips are never raised against the truth ; 
She holds in reverence both age and youth. 

She dares not lend herself to wrong. 

Though slow to blame and mild of mood, 
Sharp are the arrows of her tongue 

When crime must be withstood. 
Yet pride and wrath are not for her ; 
Euling by mercy, not by fear \ 
Supreme, yet judging not another's sin. 
She slayeth not the sinner but would win. 

Form of sound words she loveth well, 
Words that the listening spirit reach, 



WISDOM. 49 

Conversing now in parable 

And now in children's speech. 
She works regardful of the end ; 
She cleaveth to a faithful Friend, 
In whom she moveth toward eternal rest ; 
In whose great name she blesseth and is blest. 



50 



PROGRESS. 

The broad advances of material power, 
The onward sweep of intellectual good, 
And nations moving into manhood new 
Through wisdom and authentic civil change — 
soul-expansive creed ! faith to stir 
The individual breast with hopes divine, 
And breathe forgetfulness of private wrong ! 
But when I asked myself what these have done. 
What failed to do, I felt as if an air, 
Steady and chill from some waste wilderness, 
Swept cold across the chambers of my heart. 
For through the heavy multitudinous roll, 
Heard underneath the noises of the hour 
From Life's dark hollows, as I thought, a cry 
Unheeded, inarticulate, went up, 
Which forcibly found words within my breast :- 



PROGRESS. 51 

Still we suffer wrongs untold, 

Eobbed of peace and joy and health, 

Slowly slain, both young and old, 
For the rich man's greed of wealth. 

How long shall our hearths lie cold ? 

How long shall our lives he sold ! 

Eise, ye men of nobler mould, 
Say it shall not be for ever ! 

Yainly doth the poor man groan, 
Yainly doth he speak his grief. 

" Work on till thy days be flown ; 
Seek not, save in death, relief ! " 

It is thus they mock his moan, 

While they take from him his own, 

Leaving him the grave alone, 
Where to sleep at rest for ever ! 

Shall there not deep vengeance fall 

On the tyrants pitiless, 
Holding cursed festival 

Tn a people's heaviness ? 



52 PROGRESS. 

Vengeance late or soon will fall 
On the oppressors one and all, 
Covering, like a funeral pall, 
These iniquities for ever ! 

would that all men who have eyes to see, 

Who feel the earthquake heaving in its chains, 

Would lay to heart the remedy of things 

Disjointed, ere they perish, and would turn 

Where lies the one hope of the groaning earth ! 

!N"or will I doubt my country shall find help — 

Not in the selfishness of social war, 

State agitations, and the building up 

A Babel of unripe democracies ; 

But in the charity of man to man ; 

In the acknowledgment of common blood 

Drawn from a common Father ; in the sense 

Of Christ's desert wherein we all are rich, 

And of our own wherein we all are poor. 

This is that touch of nature which will make 

The whole world kin, and bring " the golden year." 

And God be thanked that many to this end 



PROGRESS. 53 

Are working, by the unfaithful and inert 

Derided, not defeated, and, though faint, 

Pursuing ; the laborious pioneers 

"Who point the scope of elemental Right, 

Who make the rough ways smooth, the crooked straight, 

Who lift the valleys even with the hills, 

And on a secret anvil, hour by hour, 

Unforge the fetters of Humanity ! 



54 



STKEjSTGTH. 

In strength there ever dwells of right 

Some quality of noble name, 
Which through base uses keeps alight 

A remnant of celestial flame, 
And cannot leave him wholly vile 

Within whose breast it takes abode, 
Since this one spot, this little isle, 

Must still retain the stamp of God. 
In him who, not of kings the heir, 

Carves out a crown by kingly work, 
Must needs be that some virtue rare, 

Some godlike moral grace, doth lurk. 
This, shining forth, shall colour lend 

To wrong, or questionable act, 



STRENGTH. 55 

Til] the world dreams a righteous end 
Where only sophists- can defend, 

And Faith becomes the slave of Fact. 
Yet is it an effeminate thing, 

A woman-weakness, still to crave 
For works that make the world to ring, 
Or setting up some idol-king 

For violence pronounce him brave. 
For stronger far, and in their strength 

More honourably due to fame, 
Are they who through the stormy length 

Of combat kept a flawless name ; 
Who, reddened to the brows with strife, 

Have nourished hearts not cruel still ; 
Men who, though widely taking life, 

Shed blood for conscience' sake, not will : 
Who sheathed the sword when peace might be, 

And, bravely glad, confessed it gain ; 
In whose severe sublimity 

Envy detects no fatal stain ; 
Men of a perfect mould ; and such, 

Who knew themselves and knew their time, 



56 STRENGTH. 

We cannot honour over-mnch 
In story or in rhyme. 

Strong is the statesman who can wield 

A nation to his single will, 
Teach its blind passions how to yield, 

And lordly destinies fulfil ; 
TVTio to one point, whate'er befall, 

Makes every shapely purpose bend, 
Becoming all things unto all, 

So he may gain an end. 
Yet greater oft is ill success — 

Later in time they reap applause 
Whoni factions could not ban nor bless \ 

Found brave enough to lose a cause ; 
Who, 'mid a grovelling race and prone, 

"Walked honestly erect and proud, 
AVho dared not lie to gain a throne, 

Xor struck their colours to the crowd. 
Such shall not lack renown, till when 

Cometh an iron age at last, 



STRENGTH. 57 

Sneering at all that makes us men, 
Cursed with contemnings of the Past \ 

Who, reaping where they have not sown, 
Wax selfish in their base degree ; ~ 

Who think the breath they breathe their own, 
And slur the light by which they see. 

This is the noblest strength to seek, 

And fadeless still the crown remains, 
Which once He wore who, strongly weak, 

On Calvary was wrung with pains. 
To suffer, and without complaint, 

Makes grandeur more divine than all ; 
This to high places lifts the faint ; 

This is the hero's coronal. 
To wither in a dark disgrace 

Which half a word might wipe away, 
And clothed with calumny to face 

Contempt and hatred day by day, 
Because the half-word that would change 

Our destiny were best unsaid — 



58 



STRENGTH. 



wide and elevated range 

Of hearts to worthy interests wed ! 

So blest the fame-regardless thought, 
Which, to divine attractions true, 

Feels that the life which hath been taught 
To surfer hath been taught to do ! 



59 



Who once hath chosen the ranks of right, 
With clenched resolve by his choice to stand, 

Saves a people oft in their own despite, 
And loveth wisely his native land. 

He bears a praying heart in the strife, 

Sworn knight and true of the Christian cross, 

Against all evil wars to the knife, 

And is firm of faith, though he suffer loss. 

Better tenfold take any defeat, 

Than rise to success by a doubtful deed, 

Or craven-like, after the risk and heat, 
Gather safe laurels where others bleed. 



L_ 



60 



He doth not count his coffers his own, 
Nor teach his children to scrape and save, 

No living worker dares to disown, 

Nor brands on his brother the name of slave. 

He cannot conform to the worldling's part, 
Never despairs of a righteous cause, 

Stands up for God's poor with hand and heart, 
And scorns to defend unequal laws. 

Yet cares not to court a death sublime 
For poets in distant years to sing, 

But bravely, in God's own place and time, 
Yields up his life without questioning. 



61 



Never say that good is waning, 
Virtue falling from the van ; 

Nor, in saddened strains complaining, 
Preach the thanklessness of man. 

If some profitless self-seeker 

Win much praise and public gold, 

Not for this- thy work be weaker, 
Not for this thy courage cold. 

Whoso in life's task hath taken 

Glory for a worthy goal, 
Hath for a light dream forsaken 

True magnificence of soul. 



62 

Think it then nor shame nor pity 
That no crowds applaud thy name ; 

Strive on — save the leaguered city, 
Though another reap the fame. 

If thy prowess hath not found thee 
Meed of honour in the state, 

Think of many a martyr round thee 
Daily doing something great. 



So thy people reap the harvest, 
Little recks who cast the seed ; 

Guerdon, high as thou deservest, 
Dwells in thy own holy deed. 



63 



TO THE SOUTH. 

joyless Widow weeping in the dust, 

Thy home all death, thy beauty branded out — 

Still pealed upon, though fallen, with the shout 

Of ruffian hordes that rent thee for their lust : 

Thou whom the World, too thriving to be just, 

That trims her smile to each new star of fate, 

Stabs dying and abhors thee desolate, 

And down hell's pit thy very name would thrust ; 

If life to nations were not summed in years, 

But storm and toil and fiery sobs of pain, 

If scrolls were broken hearts, if time were tears, 

And grief dominion, the wide air would rain 

Thy dateless records, and no land or sea 

Were found from thy imperial footsteps free. 

July 1865. 



64 



TO PRESIDENT DAVIS IN PRISON". 

Aloxe, in chains, amid a howling crew 

Of men that know not honour, nor divine 

How the just cause lives holier, truth more true, 

Sealed by a martyrdom so grand as thine, 

Thou lingerest on till felon foes consign 

Thy body to the grave, thy soul to God ; 

Such awful power is in a drunkard's nod 

To mow down Worth, and slay the pure like swine ! 

Or if they kill not thy less noble part, 

Tongues yet remain that never spared to shed 

The venom of foul lies to gnaw thy heart, 

And rot thy memory. But their scorn is meet : 

The Eternal arms are laid beneath thy head, 

And Christ Himself stands pitying at thy feet. 

July 1865. 



65 



LINES 

WRITTEN IN A COPY OF THE AUTHOR'S TRANSLATION OF 
'THE ILIAD ' PRESENTED TO GENERAL LEE. 

The grand old bard that never dies, 
Eeceive him in our English tongue ; 

I send thee, but with weeping eyes, 
The story that he sung. 

Thy Troy is fallen, thy dear land 
Is marred beneath the spoiler's heel ; 

I cannot trust my trembling hand 
To write the things I feel. 

Ah, realm of tombs ! but let her bear 
This blazon to the last of times — 

No nation rose so white and fair, 
Or ML so pure of crimes. 

E 



66 



The widow's moan, the orphan's wail, 
Come round thee, yet in truth be strong, 

Eternal Eight, though all else fail, 
Can never be made Wrong. 

An angel's heart, an angel's mouth, 
Xot Homer's, could alone for me 

Hymn well the great Confederate South, 
Virginia first, and Lee. 



67 



EDITH. 

Reared among woods and waters from her birth, 

Fatherless long ago, an only child, 

Edith, the shrine of many memories, 

Far in the country with her mother dwelt — 

Her mother known ensample of true worth, 

And cast in olden type of virtue rare, 

A kind good woman, something stern withal, 

Of courtesy beseeming one whose mind, 

Warped into gentleness by force of will, 

And ruled by inward ordinance severe, 

Moves to its end deliberately just. 

But Edith ever was a happy child, 

Roaming about in wild light-hearteclness 

Free as a silver-footed waterfall, 

\Yhich down the bosom of a sunlit crag 

From ledge to ledge, with many a whitening curve, 



68 EDITH. 

Leaps in a luminous ecstasy of life, 

Hurrying on weariless in a vain pursuit 

For ever, and for ever vanishing 

Gulfed in the shingly sands that far beneath 

Spread smooth, and shining with the ocean-dew, 

And her bright form, touched with all delicate grace, 

Among her playmates on a summer eve, 

"With a peculiar music of its own. 

Held the will captive, and enchained the eye, 

That once a hard man seeing her made pause, 

Led by a quiet instinct unforeseen 

And self-responsive to some secret chord, 

To wander into old remembrances, 

Dead dreams, and scenic shadows of the mind, 

Till, in that breathing-time of tenderest thought, 

Silent he lapsed, nor wholly without tears, 

Into a genuine blessing and a prayer 

That far and few might be the days which found 

Sorrow and her inhabiting one home, 

Xot unfamiliar from her childhood up 
"Were the old legends of the land to her, 



EDITH. 69 

And the rude poetry of rustic hearths, 

And visionary tales of Fairyland. 

Eeinless imagination day by day 

Learned to cull sweetness from whatever flowers 

Haunted the range of her sequestered life ; 

So that two lives within her seemed to dwell, 

One nurtured in the semblances of things, 

One amid abstract phantasies afar, 

Both happy, each receding into each. 

Edith, would thy face had been less fair, 
So had thy fate been fairer ! For when she 
Was budding into gentle womanhood, 
Fresh from her eighteenth birthday, kept at home 
In overflow of simple merriment, 
With a few guests, her friends of equal age, 
There came a handsome stranger to the place, 
Skilled in all suasive accents, dark and tall, 
Who saw, and set his mark upon the house. 

Virtue is more than omens, and herself 
Is prophet to herself, and still the law 



70 EDITH. 

Is changeless which hath said " The equal suns 
Alike upon the evil and the good 
Shine, and the sweet rains without favour fall "• 
For a more large humanity than ours 
In nature's soul, with a more even pulse, 
Dwells, though one life and though another cease- 
Else surely had some angel, Argus-eyed, 
To whom is given to read like open scroll 
Black thoughts that fester in the hearts of men, 
Sent forth some wonder to unfold the crime. 
But now, as ever, the wide face of things, 
Slowly dissolved, is drawn into the dark ; 
Slowly the muffling mist, as heretofore, 
Climbs from the valley, and leads up the night 
Even to that shelving slope, whereon was built 
The ivied cottage, of those two the home, 
There growing from the basement to the roof 
Till the slow-creeping vapour indistinct 
Hung like a funeral shroud upon the place. 
Ah ! yet a little while, and the great Sun, 
From his deep harbours moving outward-bound, 
Smites the dominion of the Xight with sails 



EDITH, 71 

And the long flashings of his gilded oars ! 

But who may utter warning, who may know, 

How soon another darkness shall come up, 

And press like iron on the ruined brows 

Of one who seemed too beautiful to die, 

And force her shuddering to a land far off, 

And cold, where the sad billows never feel 

Day with its shining sails and gilded oars, 

A land of darknesses unutterable, 

Whence neither feet nor wings nor strength nor tears 

Conquer a passage to the realms of light 1 

Edith, Edith, whither then shall fly 
That laughter of the heart, that fresh delight, 
Which brooded o'er thy being, and could change, 
After the varying impulse of thy mind, 
Eeality into a pleasing dream, 
Or dream into a sweet reality % 

Meanwhile the tale that hath been often told, 
And yet so often must be told again, 
From small beginnings, wilfully incurred, 



72 EDITH. 






Hourly was working to the fatal end. 

First came the bow in passing, and anon 

The casual greeting when she went abroad, 

And then the chance companionship, which soon 

Grew into stolen interview, and now 

For the first time and for a stranger's sake, 

Who lightly smiled her scruple to the winds, 

She kept a secret from her other heart ; 

And the pre-sentient questionings within, 

That should have saved her, learned to reason down 

With soulless shallow plausibilities, 

Even to the last believed against belief, 

Till from that blind perversity there sprung 

The Ate of an edgeless intellect, 

And her vain lightness, self-beguiled to fall, 

Fostered a strong delusion, that a lie 

Came in the semblance of eternal truth, 

And one disloyal in all thought and act 

Seemed admirable, and made discourse of love 

So nobly, that she thought him half a god, 

And knew him not, nor ever wished to know, 

Urging soft flatteries, and smooth-lipped guile, 



EDITH. 73 

And seeking to abuse her virgin ear 

With perilous words, that to forbidden dreams 

Familiarize and mould the unwary mind. 

So for five moons he laid perpetual siege 

To citadel that thought not of defence, 

Till on occasion cunningly contrived 

He made himself possessed of that, which once 

Discarded, woman hath no more to lose ; 

Then hasted from the ruin he had wrought, 

Yet, with a hideous fraud in his farewell, 

Yowing return ere many days to claim 

Her hand, and take her for his wedded wife. 

And the days rose and set, and he came not — 
But there came gifts of money \ and her heart 
Would ask her, had she sold herself for this % 
No, 'twas a wicked doubt, it could not be, — 
How dared she cast such slur upon his truth % 
He would return, he would not let her die — 
But still she felt ashamed to touch the gold ; 
And the fierce canker like a fire did eat 
Her soul, and shook the roses from her cheeks, 



74 EDITH. 

And in her eyes the melancholy light 
Did plant of pensive hope, that will not die, 
But leads a dying life beyond its hour ; 
And made her but the ghost of what she was ; 
Till her companions laughingly would say, 
" Edith is pale and thin ; she is in love." 
And then her lips would smile a negative — 
A sad cold smile, at variance with the heart. 

Once on a winter's day, beside the fire, 
Waking from gloomy reverie, she saw 
A sudden whiteness in her mother's face, 
And knew the stony horror of her eyes 
Interpreting the change of form, now grown 
Discernible, and reading all at once 
The fatal first dishonour of the house. 
Then weeping she knelt down, and uttered all, 
With sobs and passionate heavings of the heart, 
As one who cannot loathe herself enough. 
When lifting up the shame of guilty brows, 
Half-dead with desolation, she beheld 
A gracious countenance bent over her, 



EDITH. 75 

And falling tears that mingled with her own 

From eyelids eloquent with comfortings 

Undreamed of, and a kindness large as heaven • 

And wonder rushed upon her, when she knew 

The force and fulness of a mother's love, 

And how we starve it with indifference, 

And cast it out to wander in the cold, 

And to its ceaseless knockings all the night 

Close the dull ear and selfish heart, yet still 

It feeds upon itself in solitude, 

And for the dear one hopeth golden years, 

Content to be rejected and love on — 

God, the riches that we spurn to use ! — 

And her knees smote together, and she swooned. 

As when a heartless child for self-delight 
Hath stolen a little nestling from the nest, 
And loves it with a cruel careless love, 
And promises to hoard it for his own, 
Till in the sunset, growing tired of play, 
He casts it from him as a worthless thing, 
And leaves it cowering on the naked earth, 



76 



EDITH. 



Bruised on the breast, and cold, and all alone — 
But in the twilight comes the mother-bird 
And brings it food, and strives to make it eat, 
And with such shelter as the place provides 
Fences it from the night that cometh on ; 
But all in vain — for never shall she hear 
That voice among the voices of the bowers, 
I^ever behold the little wings outspread 
Drinking new vigour from the vernal suns, — 
Like to that bird, in such a lonely doom, 
Lay Edith, tended by a mother's love ; 
Nor only in one sorrow ; for she thought, 
" Ah ! never so my child that shall be born ! 
He. cannot rest in any mother's arms ; 
Xone can he find to mould his baby lips 
Into that name, as a familiar thing. 
Kind Heaven ! how sadly in the after-time 
Shall he hear others, happier than himself, 
Praise feelingly and well, with earnest eyes, 
Tear-glistening, dim, that love beyond all love, 
A mother's, and shall wonder what they mean ! 
How often, in some hour denied to sleep, 



EDITH. 77 

Heavy with darkening cares, shall he look forth 

And speak his anguish in the night's dull ear, 

That cannot hearken what he has to say, 

And find no succour left in the cold earth, 

No succour in the cold stars overhead ! 

Or if it be a daughter that I bear, 

Child of my shame, God, she may be like 

Her mother, and may sin as I have sinned, 

But not like me to find an early grave ; — 

So shall my name sound hateful in her ears, 

And I shall feel the curses of my child 

Who never knew me, whom I never knew, 

Earning in fire upon my prison-house 

Eternally." Forthwith her eyes grew wild 

With terror, and she shrieked, " I have done with 

hope, 
Despairs have fallen upon me, and I die ! " 
But there were ministering lips which gave 
The medicine of comfortable words, 
Saying, " I will not leave thee nor forsake. 
But if the hour might come, which cannot come, 
When even I thy mother could forget, 



78 EDITH. 

Lives there not One who will remember still 1 " 

And in sweet consonance with gentle lips 

Tender caresses, given by gentle hands, 

Were sadly trifling with her golden hair ; 

And the mute movement uttered more than speech. 

From that day forth she passed not out of doors, 
But with her mother stayed alone at home, 
Craving continually, both night and day, 
Pardon and mercy from offended Heaven. 
And so she wore herself with utter grief, 
Feeding for ever on a broken heart, 
Even until her travail-time came on. 



Seven slow hours, from noon into the night, 
While the red fire upon the hearth burned slow, 
And fitfully, without, the gusty winds 
Blew the rain westward, slanting on the panes — 
Seven slow hours she watched her daughter's couch, 
Who lay there with still brows and features still, 



EDITH. 79 

Set as in sorrow, white, and worn, and cold, 
Dreamily dying, having borne a child — 
Seven slow hours she watched, but in the eighth 
Sad orphanhood was on the new-born life. 

As one who, torn with sickness and slow pain. 
Lies whisperless with horror all night long, 
And ever in the ghostly flicker of light 
Quails with a doubtful death-stare in his eyes ; 
But when the shivering wind blows chill with dawn, 
And the grey stealth of twilight with pale feet 
Treads on the listless hills, or half in fear 
Feels tremblingly about the dark ravine, 
While the lone eagle from her sunless rock, 
Veiled in the wet smoke of the rushing streams, 
Stirs through the cold a hollow cry far off — 
Sad Echo wails — that moment the sick man 
Feels the tense nerves relaxing, and the brain 
Showered on by sweetness of Elysian dews ; 
Then marble-mute, with the white-breasted smile 
Of simple childhood wreathing his wan lips, 
Lies stirless in the murmurings of the morn, 



L. 



80 EDITH. 

And stirless in the golden afternoon, 

Till, when the sun's red splendour sinks at eve, 

He, fresh from dream of flowers and resonant rills, 

Opens wide eyes rejoicing, saved by sleep — 

As life's rich tumult seemeth sweet to him, 

Thus in her dying sweet was death to her, 

To Edith, when she passed from the cold earth. 

And now the mother of the dead rose up 
With mien of fire, and from her flashing eyes 
Shot curses — so might Clytaemnestra look, 
Nerving her heart up for the devilish deed. 
But all the while in softer shades revealed, 
Under. the workings of tumultuous wrath, 
Loomed, mixed with wrath, the mighty mother-heart 
Of Eachel, who of old in Eamah wept 
Her children, by an evil doom cut off, 
And would not any more be comforted, 
Since these, her only comfort, were no more. 

She rose, she gazed her last upon the dead, 
That mother, frenzy-fired with grief and pain, 



i 



EDITH. .81 

Then, full of a wild anger half-divine, 
Uttered her soul in meanings like to these : 

" Earth, Heaven, if aught in earth or heaven 
Can feel, if judgment may exist at all, 
How can ye longer witness what men do, 
And not be shaken to the core with pangs 
Unutterable, nor furiously consume 
The demon-lives that work you violence 1 
That which I feared with an exceeding fear 
Hath surely come to pass, and I remain, 
Whelmed yet alive, amid a burning wreck 
Of ruin, scarcely comprehending all, 
But only that I am not in a dream — 

God, that I could make myself unborn ! 
That altogether taken from a world 

Which never seems to have been made for man, 
But for a habitation of the fiends, 
So foul it is, so wasted with revolt, 

1 might find somewhere sleep, or, if not sleep, 
Utter extinction, which were best of all ; 
Since to me, girded with so dire a curse, 

F 



82 EDITH. 

That from which Nature cloth recoil and shrink 
Has come to be a thing desirable, 
Foremost of blessings, and the goal of hope. 

" God help me, but I will not weep to-night ! 
Is this an hour for unavailing tears, 
Sighs, and the listless folding of the hands, 
When I have lost her who was all my hope, 
My heart, my darling flower, my one delight 1 
I childless henceforth, and without a joy, 
Must live my lonely remnant of dark days ; 
The light shall rise for others, not for me, 
Mine is the dewless desert black with gloom, 
Mine. the long bitterness of death in life, 
Mine the slow sunless hours for evermore ; 
I will not weep, lest I forget revenge ! 



" Would God my child thou hadst not perished thus ! 
For thee Death came not timely as a friend, 
Nor with kind rest as to the weary sick, 
Nor pure, as when he cometh on the young, 
Nor painless, as he visiteth the old \ 



EDITH. 83 

But, ere thy summer rose, a cruel man 
Laid wait to snare thy unsuspecting love, 
Thy heedless early love, and for vile lust 
Fed like a frost upon thy budding life, 
A heartless enemy, whom God endow 
Here and hereafter with his changeless curse ! 

" Ha ! I have sworn to teach thy babe to pray ; 
And thus will I fulfil my plighted oath, 
As righteous reason justifieth aloud. 
Yes, I will teach thy lisping little one 
To name his father in his daily prayers, 
But not for blessing. From his early years 
His tender unimprinted waxen heart 
Shall take the fearful mould of filial hate. 
God may not hear me, but He will the child. 
Those orphan hands uplifted shall have power, 
More than an outraged mother's cry, which yet 
Surely shall not return unto me void, 
To clothe blood-guiltiness with fiery name, 
And brand the brow with damning characters 
Which each one that beholds shall read, until 



84 EDITH. 

From the destroyer and his hated house 
Love like the yellow leafage falls away. 

" Surely, Vengeance, thou wilt prove my friend ; 
Kot now, but sometime in the far-off years ; 
It may be at the merry banquet-board, 
Or when his children throng him round with smiles, 
Or when deep-housed amid the calm of night 
In his wife's arms he dreams that all is well ; 
then appear to him, in such an hour, 
Then fix thy fangs in his uneasy soul, 
And plant there a consuming misery, 
A dire remorse at enmity with sleep, 
A sensible strange madness of the mind, 
Musing alone, impregnable to hope, 
A wearing, wasting leprosy of heart, 
Xever to pass away, though he pray much 
For peace, sweet peace that is so far to find, 
Until by utter anguish beaten down 
He hide his head in an unholy grave 
And slake his hot thirst in the nethermost hell. 



EDITH. 85 

" Ay me ! I would not weep, I would not weep ! 
Child, look not upward from thy couch so cold, 
With such mysterious meaning in thy face, 
Such awful sorrow lingering on thy lips, 
Such strange reproaches in thy sightless eyes. 
Thy words come back — I cannot bear their sound. 
Better in dead oblivion once for all 
To lie down senseless in the senseless earth, 
Than that the plaint of thy departing speech 
Haunt me for ever, ringing in my ears, 
With power to make me weep against my will. 
6 God, God, Thy mercies break my heart 
For sorrow. I have not been merciful 
To Thee. I pierced Thee to the soul with sin ; 
And with strange agonies from hour to hour, 
Made all Thine aching wounds to bleed afresh. 
Yet, Father, even so take back Thy child 
Washed white with the pure blood that cleanseth all.' 
So spake that voice which never shall speak more. 
Then to me turning : — ' Mother, once again, 
Yet once \ the sound is sweet to dying ears ; 






86 EDITH. 

Say thou forgivest me ; ' and I replied — 
' God hath forgiven thee, and I forgive 
Even from the heart ' — and then her thin white lips 
Said, as I think, 'Forgive him.' — It is well- 
She, died her death, and dying she forgave — 
Ay, it is well — but what have I to do 
With mercy or forgiveness any more ? 

" O, I will walk abroad and cry to heaven, 
Disturber of men's peace, till whoso hears 
In the dead hours the unfamiliar shriek 
Far off, shall shiver on his couch for fear ; 
Then haply some one, meeting in the way 
My ghost-like form, shall ask me, c Who art thou, 
Who with thy crying dost coerce the Night, 
That would be deaf but cannot — such a voice 
Of wild despair, rending her rest, goes up ? ' 
And then will I unfold the heinous wrong — 
Or if the sullen darkness fail to hear, 
I will go forth and wander up and down, 
Seen like a spectre in the haunts of men, . 
White-haired, an/1 silent with a fixed eye, 



EDITH/ 87 

Till my heart-agonies unsealed become 
Audible, though a load is on the lips, 
And the dread rumour bruited in the land 
Keep his head slumberless, and turn to fire 
The air he breathes, and make his senses fire ! 

" Yet better might it be that I should nerve 
My feeble friendless arm, and move with stealth 
From place to place, and rest not day or night 
Crouching with hungry hope in wait for life, 
Till fierce revenge and unoblivious hate, 
Yoked to a mighty purpose, had worked out 
Full reparation. Surely this were well — 
Afterwards let me die — my life for his ! 

" Merciful God, my soul is dark as death ! 
I am not what I was ; about me hangs 
A cloud, all blood, which maketh red like blood 
All things that I behold ; and fearful shapes 
Beckon me onward unto fearful deeds — 
Are these thy angels 1 often heretofore 
Have I knelt night and day and prayed for love. 



88 EDITH. 

Shall I kneel now and pray for deathless hate, 
Hate that shall never swerve, never repent i 

u My soul is dark — I know not what I would. 
Can murder wipe out murder 1 my God, 
Who helpest them to right that suffer wrong, 
Plead Thou my cause or even slay me here. 
I swoon in darkness \ let me feel Thy hand ; 
Make haste ; uplift me ; bear me to the light ; 
clasp me closer ; let me cling to Thee, 
Cling to Thee only, who alone art left ; 
Thee who alone canst any more appease 
The maddening fire that burns into my brain — 
Hearken, God, my God, forsake me not." 

So cried she an exceeding bitter cry, 
And, falling forward, sank upon her knees 
And wept before her Maker. When she rose 
A change had passed upon her — for she stood 
• Silent like stone, and seemed from head to foot 
Clothed in a settled anguish. Lip and brow 
Were many a winter older ; and her hair 



EDITH. 89 

Was changed ; but on the soul was written peace, 
Or that which slowly ripens into peace. 

So cried she an exceeding bitter cry — 
Would that thy ear could hear it, and thy heart, 
Thou treacherous spoiler, who hast done this thing, 
And hadst no pity in thy brutish breast, 
Xo feeling, no remorse, no human pang ! 
Therefore against thee, in the scroll of God, 
Stern things are written for the wrath to come. 
Blood, like a witness crying for thy life, 
Ever smokes up to the discerning Heaven, 
Big with the vapour of an iron rain, 
Heavy to overwhelm ; since never yet 
Hath risen, nor shall rise while earth remains, 
More damning testimony against a man 
Than is the voice of her who weeps a child, 
Slain by some hater of the light, like thee. 
Wherefore repent, if thou canst yet repent, 
Nor hope be all too late. Surely thy doom 
Drew closer round thee from the moment when 
She whom thy crime half maddened into crime 



90 



EDITH. 



Left thee amenable to God alone. 

Ah wretch ! who shall divorce thy load of thought 1 

"Who lend thee any ward or subterfuge 1 

What charm defend thee from thy harrowing dreams 1 

What priest or prophet shield thee from thyself? 

Go, seek a watchword while it may be found, 

A watchword to unlock the guarded gates, 

One that when spoken from the heart's deep heart 

Makes placable the armed Seraphim, 

Who sentinel with brows of frowning fire 

Fields unpolluted by the steps of guilt, 

That they may hear thee, moaning bitterly, 

And look with pity on thy asking eyes, 

And stoop and pluck thee from the throat of hell, 

And set thee safely in the fold, before 

Heaven thunder, and amid the roll of wrath 

Thine agony's strong voice in vain climb up. 



91 



EEINXYS. 



"Octtls 5 5 aXiroov (Lairep 6'5' avfyp 
X^pas (povias iTTLKpyirrei 
fxdprvp€s opOal to?(ti Bavovdiv 
irapayiyvoixsvai 7rpa/cropes aifxaros 
■ avTcp re\€cos i(pdvr]fjLev. 



Though stark it lieth and cold in clay, 

Though it utters neither good nor ill, 

There is that which my dagger could not kill — 

A haunting horror night and day, 

That makes my blood stand still — • 

That makes my spirit shrink and shiver, 

That dwells within me for ever and ever, 

A dark and terrible dream, wherewith I cannot away ! 

Mghtly and daily I die with fear, 

Lest the breeze, as it wanders far and near, 

Should speak my story in mortal ear ; 



% 



92 ERINNYS. 

Or the Hand that writes in letters of fire, 

When the raving clouds contend in heaven, 

Should flash my name in the wild far-gleaming levin, 

And the pattering rain should conspire, 

With ever-heedful tones, as it fell, 

This bloody rumour that cries from hell, 

Slowly to shape and syllable. 

Suddenly in a frenzied fright, 

With cold damp brow, and stiffened hair, 

And lips that trembled in vain for a prayer, 

I started from my bed, 

In the deep heart of the silent night — 

For there grew in the dark a lurid light, 

And my eyes were chained to a ghastly sight, 

The white weird face of the dead ■ 

And I saw the blood of the red wound drip, 

And the wasted finger laid on the lip — 

for darkness of eyes, darkness of mind ! 

Great God, let the heat of Thine anger strike me blind ! 

The very breath I breathe is a secret strife, 
And might well make a coward of the brave. 



ERINNYS. 93 

I shudder to see the light of life ; 
But death with a hundred hells is rife, 
And I dare not lift the poison or knife, 
And suddenly seek the grave. 
There is rest for all, but not for me ; 
I discern not any term or scope, 
Eut a ghastly hope, which is not a hope, 
For an end which is never to be. 

And still the Angel claims the price of guilt ; 

Still the Voice haunts me through the weary years, 

Full of anguish, full of fears, 

Seeming to search the distant spheres, 

And to whisper the tale in a thousand ears, 

How the crimson river of life was spilt. 

And in the desert gloom of my breast 

So long this fiery curse I bear, 

That to me now, in my mad despair, 

Change of pain would be almost as sweet as rest ! 



94 



THE SEARCH. 

Tracking each inlet 

Painfully well, 
Lonely she wanders 

Down in the dell ; 
There, while the night- winds bleak 
Whiten her wasted cheek, 
Something she seems to seek, 
In the pale starlight, 

Down in the dell. 

And there is one who 

Knows very well 
Why she walks nightly 

Down in the dell — 
Knows where the maid, unseen, 
Weeps like a Magdalene, 
And what the searchings mean, 






THE SEARCH. 95 

In the pale starlight, 
Down in the dell. 

Covered up somewhere, 

He knoweth well, 
Lies a rich treasure 

Down in the dell ; 
She to and fro doth flit, 
Thinking to find it yet 
Where he hath hidden it, 
Under the alders, 

Down in the dell. 

Cold is the starlight, 

He knoweth well, 
Chill sweep the night-winds 

Down in the dell — 
Ten times more chill and cold 
That which her arms would fold 
Eests underneath the mould, 
By the dank alders, 

Down in the dell. 



96 THE SEARCH. 

Seenieth too surely 

Something not well, 
Where blow the night-winds 

Down in the dell : 
He, who in cradle deep 
Laid there a babe to sleep, 
Xever once paused to weep, 
Where the leaves whisper, 
Down in the dell. 

Hollow-eyed dreamer, 
God guard thee well 
From the dread secret 
Down in the dell ! 
Better in wildered brain 
Feed a false hope in vain, 
Than by its father slain 
Find thy lost darling 
Down in the dell ! 



97 



THE MEETING. 

Bitter was the tale I dreaded, 

Grief of heart for evermore, 
When, from years of weary travel, 

Landing on my native shore, 
I sought out the ancient village 

And the well-remembered door. 

Long it was since any tidings 

Reached me wandering o'er the wave, 
And my soul for certain knowledge, 

Though it held a curse, did crave — 
Though the melancholy answer 

Only echoed of the grave. 

I had left three little children 
In the years of long ago — 
G 



98 THE MEETING. 

But past joy is present sorrow ; 

Painfully the seasons flow — 
Who am I to be delivered 

From the broken hopes below ? 

I had left an angel woman 

Guardian of the tender three — 

Is she dead or is she living 1 
Is her spirit true to me ? 

Well I know that many winters 
Cannot change her constancy. 

And I sought the well-loved cottage, 
Skirted by the poplar tall ; 

Waited by the garden- wicket, 
Listening to the waterfall ; 

And I caught the pleasant odour 
Of the jasmine on the wall. 

Then I entered, and she knew me, 
And sank fainting in my arms, 



THE MEETING. 99 

On her face I saw imprinted 

Midnight watchings, pain, alarms. 

And her children clustered round me, 
Undivided, free from harms. 



100 



MUSIC. 

What means this siege of ravished heart and brain ? 

What may these spiritual echoes bring to mind ! 

It seems not wholly joy nor wholly pain ; 

But each with each inhabit eth one strain, 

Till thence a marvellous ecstasy combined 

Makes sorrow not unwilling, tears pure gain. 

Is it a yearning memory of bliss 

From some far life that knew me long ago, 

More painless and more equable than this, 

Ere yet, fast-bound with iron gyves within, 

I died into this prison-house of woe i 

Ah ! that I yet might find some useful lore, 

Xot wholly deadened by the clasp of sin, 

To conquer that delightful land once more ! 



101 



THE CHAKGE. 

In ferrum flammasque ruunt. 

u To the charge ! to the charge ! " and there lingered 

not one ; 
But the deepening thunder of hoofs cometh on, 
And the iron earth reels underneath ; they are gone — 
Stern were the faces that flashed for an instant past. 
Onward, onward they go, 
Angels of ruin and woe, 
Eight to the heart of the foe, 
Sure as a sea, fierce as a blast. 

On they sweep, in the storm of their fiery zeal, 
Where the deep lines await them with cannon and steel, 
Closing round them, as billows that close round a keel — 
Horsemen six hundred but now passed sword in 
hand; 



102 THE CHARGE. 

Passed, but return not again — 
Only a struggle and strain — 
Then from trie wounded and slain 

Eides a thin remnant, a scatterling band ! 



103 



MILTOK 

God gave to thee the keys of heaven and hell, 

With power to bring their sacred things to light. 

His hands upbore thee in thy fiery flight. 

He who inspired the seers of Israel 

Fashioned thy tongue to speak the unspeakable; 

So that for ever with the sons of men 

Thy sacred sentences shall deeply dwell, 

Graven and grafted with an iron pen, 

As of a ruler by the might of mind. 

As Zion standeth with her crown of hills, 

So thou, above Earth's storms and wasting wind, 

Art crowned of God. His is the thought that fills 

Thy utterance. His own breath thy being doth move. 

I tremble and bow down — I feel and love. 



104 



STANZAS TO WORDSWORTH. 

Like solitary branch, of oak or elm, 
Torn off in early summer, when the year 
Was greenest, orphaned in the forest-realm, 
The whispered by-word of each sylvan peer ; 
Which all despairingly some few days' length, 
While the sap dwindles to a scantiest tear, 
Feeds a dead life with its inherent strength — 

Too soon, alas ! the brittle blackening leaves 
Shrivel their veiny network, once so fair ; 
No more that lost bough pleasant tune receives, 
But harsh and hollow, from the idling air ; 
And nerves once quick to pleasure and to pain 
Wholly forget the sunlight's fostering care, 
Wholly the sweet dews and the mellowing rain- 



STANZAS TO WORDSWORTH. 105 

Such did I fondly deem myself, but thou 
Hast taught me with new forms to over-write 
That fatal old imperious blank, and now 
Find I companionship as wide as light, 
True sympathetic rapture, which distils 
There on the spirit's most harmonious height 
Eich revelations from the stars and hills. 

There that good Faculty doth build her nest, 

A refuge from self- waste, and hourly reaps 

Wholesome vicissitude and boon unrest 

In other haunts than where the gross world sleeps ; 

Whence she discerns that Earth's dumb-seeming sphere 

Heaves warm with pulses from its deepest deeps, 

And mighty voices large with love doth rear. 

Each wind, its own majestic cadence pouring, 

Wanders articulate the realms of air ; 

In the great zone of waters, hushed or warring, 

Lives language that no centuries outivear ; 

And, with peculiar poesies endued, 

Each hour can answer speculations rare 

With master-meanings culled in solitude. 



106 STANZAS TO WORDSWORTH. 

This thou hast taught nie, this art teaching still. 
My new-found nature quaffs the piercing rain 
Shed from thee, and is moulded at thy will 
To read high matter in a simple strain. 
Thrice blest who owned thee early for their seer, 
Who, finding thy sweet fountains not in vain, 
Preached the remedial virtue far and near ! 

Well said the Greek that universal earth 
Buries the brave, and is their monument ; 
But death to thee hath been an ampler birth, 
Whereby thy being with mankind is blent. 
Graved on men's hearts thine epitaph lasts long. 
Now are those hard lips learning to repent, 
Who scorned thee once, the Nazarene of song. 

Even when we wept, a little while ago, 
Unfaithful, that thy place knew thee no more, 
The mental essence, moving to and fro, 
Plashed in our eyes thy renovated lore, 
And filled all corners with instinctive truth. 
He errs who tells us that thy life is o'er, 
Nor reads all round him thine eternal youth. 



STANZAS TO WORDSWORTH. 107 

Therefore to thee whose bones God's call await 
In that fair earth whereof thy poet-power 
The lapsed significance did intimate, 
And clothe each herb and individual flower 
With music and thine own life's noblest part, 
I, a weak proselyte, love's simple dower 
Offer not worthless from a poor man's heart — 

Yea, thanks and love for that serener code 
Which, in a safe and stormless avenue, 
Teaches the humble to interpret God, 
Which even by exaltation can subdue, 
Chasten, and thrill with light those evil dreams 
Which made life's heavier meaning seem the true, 
And change this desert to a land of streams. 

to what height advanced were we, now low, 
Could we but once inform with that great light 
Our tyrant strengthlessness — the ebb and flow 
Of objectless desire — yea, boldly smite 
Custom, that old usurper, who doth draw 
All nations in his net by lordly right, 
Not by true service and kind wisdom's law ! 



108 STANZAS TO WORDSWORTH. 

We fail ; but thou, alike in youth and age, 
Calm-browed with patience, like a Phidiac god, 
Satst loftily withdrawn from vulgar rage, 
Not faithless, though thy fellows left untrod 
Stairs of thy building. — large heart and brave, 
Stars are thy raiment, not this lowly sod. 
Gazing on heaven I gaze upon thy grave ! 



109 






DOMIKE, QUO VADIS1* 

There stands in the old Appian Way, 
Two miles without the Eoman wall, 

A little ancient church, and grey : 
Long may it moulder not, nor fall ! 

There hangs a legend on the name 

One reverential thought may claim. 

Tis written of that fiery time, 
When all the angered evil powers 

Leagued against Christ for wrath and crime, 
How Peter left the accursed towers, 

Passing from out the guilty street, 

And shook the red dust from his feet. 

See Mrs Jameson's ( Sacred and Legendary Art/ p. 180. 



110 DOMINE, QUO VADIS? 

Sole pilgrim else in that lone road, 
Suddenly he was 'ware of one 

Who toiled beneath a weary load, 
Bareheaded in the heating sun, 

Pale with long watches, and forespent 

With harm and evil accident. 

Under a cross His weak limbs bow. 

Scarcely His sinking strength avails. 
A crown of thorns is on His brow, 

And in His hands the print of nails. 
So friendless and alone in shame, 
One like the Man of Sorrows came. 

Eead in her eyes who gave thee birth, 
That loving, tender, sad rebuke; 

Then learn no mother on this earth, 
How dear soever, shaped a look 

So sweet, so sad, so pure as now 

Came from beneath that holy brow. 

And deeply Peter's heart it pierced ; 
Once had he seen that look before : 



DOMINE, QUO VADIS? Ill 

And even now, as at the first, 

It touched, it smote him to the core. 
Bowing his head, no word save three 
He spake — " Quo vadis, Domine? " 

Then, as he looked up from the ground, 
His Saviour made him answer due — 

" My son, to Eome I go thorn-crowned, 
There to be crucified anew \ 

Since he to whom I gave my sheep 

Leaves them for other men to keep." 

Then the saint's eyes grew dim with tears. 

He knelt his Master's feet to kiss — 
" I vexed my heart with faithless fears ; 

Pardon thy servant, Lord, for this." 
Then rising up — but none was there — 
No voice, no sound, in earth or air. 

Straightway his footsteps he retraced, 

As one who hath a work to do. 
Back through the gates he passed with haste, 

Silent, alone, and full in view ; 



112 DOMINE, QUO VADIS? 

And lay forsaken, save of One, 
In dungeon deep ere set of sun. 

Then he, who once, apart from ill, 
Nor taught the depth. of human tears, 

Girded himself and walked at will, 
As one rejoicing in the years, 

Girded of others, scorned and slain, 

Passed heavenward through the gates of pain. 

If any bear a heart within, 

Well may these walls be more than stone, 
And breathe of peace and pardoned sin 

To him who grieveth all alone. 
Eeturn, faint heart, and strive thy strife ; 
"Fight, conquer, grasp the crown of life. 



113 



DE PKOFUNDIS. 

As when a bark, bereft of oars and helm, 

Slopes on a savage realm, 
And the lone sailor all against him finds 

Sky, shore, and waves, and winds, 
So drift I helpless, and bear far and wide 

God's anger at my side. 

The magnet-star, that should have won my will, 
Shone through me, sweet and still, 

When the world-billows, in their golden play, 
Lured me with smiles away — 

Thus went I forth, and wasted life and name 
Laboriously, with shame. 

Often the barren rocks with lifted voice 
Cried sorrow on my choice ; 

H 



114 DE PROFUNDIS. 

Often the faithless sands about my feet 

Told me my self-deceit ; 
The winds sang warnings, and each hollow shell 

Breathed in my ears a knell. 

So I that wandered the wide seas for gain, 

And left the poor in pain, 
Xow for sweet health in a voluptuous air 

Find plentiful despair, 
And from soft dreams of an Elysian land 

Strike on this iron strand. 

Fierce from long sleep the sins of summer roll 

Their anguish on my soul ; 
They seize me in their arms, they wring with shocks 

My heart out on the rocks. 
Men gaze — none reckoneth in his heart-belief 

How holy a thing is grief. 

vision of a maiden pure as snow, 

I love thee well, but go ! 
Go — for sweet joy may not be yoked with shame, 

Our bourne is not the same. 



DE PROFUNDIS. 115 

Harps in the pure sky measure thy low prayer ; 
Mine falls I know not where. 

Tell me, dear friends, if one with bleeding feet 

Stand where the sea- waves meet 
The bending sky — one pale, with anguish marred. 

Doth he with wan regard 
Seem to yearn hitherward, and feel and know 

This my contempt and woe ? 

Cold is my heart, mine eyes are waxen dim, 

But could I once find Him, 
And lave with tears his thin feet crimson- wet, 

There were good hope e'en yet. 
But ah ! he tarrieth with his virgin-trains, 

Not caring for my pains. 

Would he not gather up these drifting spars, 

And with new bolts and bars 
Heal the crazed wreck, and make her strengthless knees 

Fit to re-stem the seas ? 
But oh ! far hence on lilied couch he sleeps, 

Not dreaming of the deeps. 



116 DE PKOFUNDIS. 

Would he not steer me in my broken bark 

On through the lurid dark ? 
Then, though the red storm veil him, I might hear 

His voice, and feel him near. 
Thou fool ! — yea, something like to this might be 

For others, not for thee. 

Say, can the chill lips that in death lie mute 

Breathe music in the flute ? 
Or, in the dark earth coffined, the dull ear 

Unseal itself, and hear ? 
Then canst thou also not in vain arise, 

And labour, and be wise. 

How merciless in front, how black with gloom 
Frowns the sought goal of doom ! 

And if I look behind me, rolling dire 
Curl the long waves in fire. 

Thou far-listening, if thou hear my cry, 
Come quickly, for I die ! 



117 



SNOWDKOPS. 

Without the dry trees groan and shiver, 
The curtained sun in his cloud doth sleep, 

And through the chamber- casement ever 
Murmurs the roll of the distant deep. 

By the maiden's side on the couch were lying, 
Blending their delicate green and white, 

Children of winter, half-closed and dying, 
Flowers that are born ere spring is in sight. 

Slowly she spake in a voice of sorrow : 
" Gentle flowers, live yet to-day, 

But when I shall have died to-morrow, 
Droop ye, and wither, and fall away. 



118 SNOWDROPS. 

" Yet a few hours, then droop and wither ; 

Silently fade and fall with me ; 
Far from the sun we will rest together, 

Shut from the sound of the moaning sea." 

Ah, poor maid ! nor father nor mother 
Soothe thy spirit passing away ; 

Only my hands, the hands of a brother, 
Gathered those snowdrops yesterday. 

Why wilt thou take the heart I cherished 1 

Eightly, Death, art thou called unkind- 
Victims twain by this stroke have perished, 
• One in body — and one in mind. 



119 



S P E I S G. 

Lo ! once again the leaves, the flowers, 
In grassy glades, in tangled bowers, 
Eejoicing in the vernal hours, 
Eejoicing in the sun and showers, 

Call on us to rejoice, 
To pause and gaze where all doth seern 
More beautiful than in a dream ; 
Sweet is the hill, the wood, the stream, 

And sweet is every voice. 

flowers, leaves, why bloom ye here ? 
Ye should be yellow, dry, and sere — 
Death, lift up thine icy spear, 
And smite the splendours of the year ; 
I cannot bear them now ! 



120 SPRING. 

Joys which reviving suns impart 
Lie heavy on a breaking heart ; 
"Wild are the arrowy pains they dart 
Into an orphan brow ! 



121 



Weary is the life I lead, 

Beating air with vain endeavour ; 
Love is left to weep, to bleed ; 

Those dear eyes are closed for ever ! 

Closed for ever and for ever ! 
Not again shall I behold thee, 
Not again these arms enfold thee ! 

Thou art gone for ever ! 

Nothing now is left for mirth ; 

All my dreams were false and hollow 
Thou, alas ! hast left the earth ; 

May it soon be mine to follow ! 

Mine to pass the veil and follow ! 
Eyes of olden hours shall meet me, 
Lips of olden love shall greet me, 

In the day I follow. 



122 



Methought I heard thy gliding" footstep near; 
But this was my delusion, the mere dream 
Of fever • and things are not as they seem. 
Life hath a wild confusion, a sore pain 
Of wonder whirleth in my heart and brain ; 
And all I know is that thou art not here. 

Seemed that a low voice in my hearing spake : 
" I fold thee in my arms ; my heart is thine ! 
We that were sundered meet ; thy heart is mine ! " 
In the sweet trance my breast hath ceased to bleed, 
And my lips whisper, Thou art here indeed — 
Vain word, that left me wailing for her sake ! 

So, when I saw that I was mocked in mind, 
I went forth quickly, to beguile my pain. 
Thou soft air, breathe upon my burning brain, 






123 



Clear the dark mist that on my soul doth press !- 
But oh ! my thoughts were far and fathomless, 
And not to be swept off by summer wind. 

Oh were it not enough that some grand blow 
Fall heavy on our lives, and blot the sun, 
Sear up the heart, and leave us once undone, 
Eut each light hour that passes on the wing 
Turns to behold, and planteth a new sting, 
And stirs with fire the torpor of our woe ! 

In the bright world to live alone, alone ; 
This is the change : I feared it, and I feel. 
Were it not better that one death should heal, 
One black rain, falling from the iron sky, 
Out-rival the divine machinery 
Moving within, and turn my heart to stone ! 



124 



jST I G H T. 

Mother of mysteries, immortal Night, 
Of old the inonarchs of the world might quail 
What time thy seers unfolded to the light 
Things in the womb of Time, a wondrous tale, 
When burning words writ on thy starry veil 
The doom of waning empires could impart. 
the long labour and sad watchings pale, 
The deep devotion and expense of heart, 
Wherewith they builded up their high Chaldaean art ! 

But thou art grander in the latter days. 
Though the old worship is for ever past, 
And Heaven claims other nobler forms of praise, 
Thy sacrifice is pure, thy rites shall last, 
Who now with thoughts unutterably vast 



NIGHT. 125 

Feedest the careful climbing intellect, 
Proving Creation's towers how deeply cast, 
And Love's pervading law strong to protect 
The wandering worlds that sail the eternities un- 
wrecked. 

Thee silence with a potent influence dim 
Enfoldeth, a celestial energy ; 
Silence, old Nature's noblest choral hymn ; 
Silence, the treasure-house of meanings high ; 
Eich with all hope ; the world's great armoury. 
Strokes on her soundless anvil fall like snow ; 
Yet mouldeth she bright bolts of Phantasy 
To flash divinity on things below, 
And perfecteth with care brave Keason toiling slow. 

Day hath its sanctity and proper grace, 
And peace is in the twilight's healing hour. 
Yet hath my day oft worn an iron face, 
And stolen away the speech of leaf and flower. 
Often the setting suns forget their power. 
Then have I sought, nor ever failed to find, 



126 NIGHT. 

Some hidden far nook in the night's deep bower, 
Stamped with the tone and temper of my mind, 
Where I might weave me charms which grief could 
not unbind. 



Wherefore have men polluted thee with crime, 
Thou that dost seem too pure for earthly stain 1 
Wherefore at this devout and holy time 
Doth the foul spirit of the deed of Cain 
Walk to and fro where peace and love should 

reign 1 
Wherefore do men delight to imitate 
The darkness that is in thee, and not deign 
To .learn the lesson of thy starry state, 
And strive for very shame to tear themselves from 
hate? 






127 



NIGHT. 

the beautiful strange visions seen within the silent 

night, 
Then when heavy eyelids weigh on heavy eyes that 

hate the light, 
When the careworn spirit, resting from the penance 

and the pain, 
Sees in dreams long-vanished Edens rich with love and 

life again ! 

Then dark thoughts no more molest us : dull and 

leaden-hearted men, 
Cruel in their lust of riches, make not breath seem 

bitter then. 
Doubt casts not its poisonous shadow. Slow despairs, 

that rankle deep, 
Pass away, as if for ever, exiled from the land of sleep. 



128 NIGHT. 

Then once more we see the faces that are laid beneath 

the mould ; 
Then we hear sweet meaning voices — voices that we 

loved of old ; 
Then the stainless life returneth laughing through the 

merry hours 
On the ancient paths of childhood, sown around with 

starry flowers. 

Who would lose the dear illusion- — who would wish 

to feel it less, 
Though it make the radiant morning thick with blight 

and barrenness ? 
Let the weary waking hours, forlorn of hope, creep 

slowly on, 
So on slumber's couch we borrow joyaunce from the 

summers gone. 

Sleep, dear to all, then dearest when strong sorrow 

bows us down, 
Charming care with golden hours, and smoothing out 

the furrowed frown ; 



NIGHT. 129 

Thou that Hottest from existence half the fever and 

the fear — 
Come, kind minister of healing, come, for thou art 

needed here. 

Come, as yesternight thou earnest. I had deemed that 

nevermore, 
Save to grief, my darkened spirit should unlock its 

sealed door ; 
For within my breast I shuddered, shadowing forth 

the things unseen, 
And the Past, save in its sorrow, seemed as it had 

never been. 

For I thought on wasted life — I saw a future fearful 

hour, 
Dread misgivings, formless terrors, evil sights of evil 

power, 
When the clock ticks slow, the minutes linger in their 

sullen flight, 
And the ghastly day's oppression is but trebled in the 

night. 

i 



130 NIGHT. 

When no more the shattered senses round the throne 

of reason dwell, 
Thinking every sight a spectre, every sound a passing 

bell; 
When the mortal desolation falleth on the soul like 

rain, 
And the wild hell-phantoms dance and revel in the 

burning brain. 

Xow the months and years of old, far from the outer 

feud and strife, 
Lay before me like a picture breathing with the breath 

of life ; 
And I saw my early home, as when it was a home to 

me, 
In a happy land, and fairer than bright lands beyond 

the sea. 

There it stood — the self- same village — even as in 

hours of old, 
When the stately sun descending dipt the dazzling 

panes in gold ; 



NIGHT. 131 

And methought for many an hour, yea many a peace- 
ful day and night, 

All that space of earth was steeped in one delicious 
faery light. 

And I marvelled not, though round me clustering life 

and beauty grew 
In the paradisal stillness visited by forms I 

knew ; 
Yet there were, beyond all others, features that I loved 

to trace — 
Ah ! too truly I remember — for it was my mother's 

face. 

; Twas no wonder that I knew thee, as thy kind eyes 

turned to mine, 
Happy in my happiness, while I was thinking not of 

thine; 
And I heard thy silver accents sweeter than all music 

flow — 
Ah me, but the lapse of summers changes many things 

below ! 



132 NIGHT. 

" Mother, we will dwell together evermore," I seemed 

to say, 
" Far from hence life's wheels are whirling ; scarce an 

echo comes this way. 
Here an uneventful rest shall fold us in a dream of 

peace, 
Here our love through silent seasons grow with infinite 

increase." 

But I woke — as one who, coming from far lands be- 
yond the wave, 

Finds not any face of welcome — all he loved are in the 
grave. 

Scarce the ancient house remaineth, bartered for a 
stranger's gold ; 

Foreign fires upon the hearth, whose very flame is 
deathly cold ! 

Surely 'twas some evil angel woke me ere the dawn 

began — 
Fiend, who could have heart to break the slumbers of 

a wretched man ! 



NIGHT 133 

Time enough grief's drooping banners once more to 

behold unfurled, 
When the warm imperial sunlight widens through a 

weeping world ! 

Breathing soon a finer sorrow, I, who had not wept for 

years, 
As I pondered on the vision felt my eyes grow dim 

with tears ; 
And I know that never, never, while Time wings his 

weary flight, 
From my heart of hearts shall perish the remembrance 

of that night. 

God be thanked that thy sweet phantom swept across 

my dreary way, 
Lighting up thine own dear footprints lest thy child 

should turn astray. 
Now for me, like loving sisters, Hope and Memory 

embrace, 
Each alike henceforward living in the sunshine of thy 

face. 



134 XIGHT. 

Let me pass in some sweet vision of the seasons long 
gone by ! 

Some stray touch of dreamy fancy haunt me slumber- 
ing ere I die ! 

Kindred hands of welcome lead me to the country far 
away, 

Where the spirit never needeth interchange of Night 
and Day ! 






135 



HADES. 

Cowper, thy lines of tenderness so deep 

Pierce home, and many times have made me weep. 

In heart those darling lineaments I see, 

And feel that I am like yet unlike thee ; 

Like in my loss ; unlike, because in vain 

I seek an outward charm to soften pain, 

And in the wide world nevermore can find 

Fit semblance of the form which haunts my mind, 

J^or aught presenting visibly and well 

The consecrated Past wherein I dwell. 

Deluding fancies, even while they gleam, 

Melt like the faery frostwork of a dream. 

Hark, the familiar footsteps round me fall ! 

See, a still shadow moves along the wall ! 

Low murmurs in the air, more felt than heard, 

Linger prophetic of some wished-for word. 



136 



HADES. 



Tis a vain instinct both of eye and ear. 

Fond dreamer, cease — thou hast no mother here. 



My father, I remember to this day, 
And shall remember till I pass away, 
How, on an evening, in a happier time — 
And, I half think, in some more blessed clime — 
In the dim silence thou didst turn to me, 
Not worthy of my mother nor of thee. 
And, with a manly tear upon thy cheek, 
Of this sweet strain in moving accents speak. 
Ah me ! thy closing words, how deep they dwell- 
" Such is thine own dear mother — guard her well.' 
And did I guard her, I, thy careless son ? 

Heaven, the world of duties left undone ! 
The chill dark grave that closes over men 
Hath taught me many things I knew not then. 
Scarcely remains a memory within, 
But, weighed and sifted, it reveals a sin. 

Better by far it seemed to me, when first 

1 knew hope darkened and my life reversed, 



HADES. 137 

And, rudely snatched from wondering unbelief, 

Saw, front to front, that ghastliness of grief, — 

Better by far it seemed, a thing worth choice, 

A God-sent gift, a reason to rejoice, 

If I had lost thee in my tender years, 

When grief, though keen, is charmed to rest by tears, 

And through the world, thenceforth, our souls retain 

Enough to soften, not enough to pain ; 

Since no remorse for hard things done or said 

Mars the remembrance of a parent dead. 

For, later on, dark records graven deep 

Add their own anguish to the loss we weep ; 

And a misused or ineffectual Past 

Claims a severe repentance to the last. 

Follies we held in no account before, 

Seen in their meaning pierce us to the core. 

Neglected sympathies of mutual prayer, 

Words left unsaid that might have soothed a care, 

The light acceptance, in some heedless hour, 

Of tokens heavy with affection's power, 

And all the coldnesses that mar our youth, 

Eise in the stern investiture of truth, 



138 HADES. 

And haunt us with a load of vain regret — 
God may forgive, we never can forget. 
Surely, I thought, too late, or far too soon, 
Heaven hath reclaimed the unutterable boon. 
Just when I seemed to feel, to comprehend, 
And in life's mysteries to discern an end ; 
Just when my long-reluctant heart began 
Some faint yet genuine recompense to plan ; 
Just when I learned to understand thy worth, 
Thou, my one care, wast taken from the earth. 
So, 'mid the wreck of visions overthrown, 
Robbed of my former self, I stand alone. 
Inly I gaze upon the saddening scene 
Of that which is, and that which might have been, 
And in my spirit hoard a life-long grief, 
To all unenviable — of mourners chief \ 
Doomed to grow old, and fall beneath the sun, 
In dire deliberation self-undone. 

Better by far it seemeth to me now 
In meek submission unreserved to bow, 
Thanking the love that left thee here so long, 
^"or joined thee earlier to that purer throng. 



HADES. 139 

I would not change my wretchedness to-day 
For all that earth can giye or take away. 
No cold philosophy can unteach this — 
More pain is more capacity for bliss. 
Never had any labour, any art, 
Fathomed the meaning of a mother's heart, 
Had not my life, through many a troubled scene, 
Felt what the absence of that heart can mean. 
Scarce could a gentler loss my spirit bring 
To trace love's yearnings in a little thing, 
And how affection moveth as she may 
In each sweet office of a common day, 
How through weak tasks heroic actions shine, 
And one brief clause makes drudgery divine.* 
All this, and more, that once seemed idle breath, 
Came with conviction from the couch of death. 
So, amid all the complex web of chains 
Earth round me weaves, thy influence yet remains ; 
So have I learned to love thee more and more ; 
So have I known thee closer than before ; 
So can I half rejoice thy race is run, 
Since every moment makes me more thy son ; 
* Herbert. 



140 HADES. 

So may I meet thee, in the home on high, 
Ten thousand-fold a mother when I die ! 

— And if of absence I could speak, forgive. 

The phrase not lower than the lips doth live. 

Not now the courses of my mind afar 

Eoam in uneasy doubt from star to star, 

And wildly question earth and wandering wave 

If all indeed be ended in the grave. 

In calm, in pain, in waking, and in sleep, 

All day, all night, I feel thy presence deep. 

More than the life I breathe art thou to me, 

Though unbeheld by gross mortality. 

For all the fetters of his iciest charm, 

Only the tangible might Death disarm. 

That spirit which, even in terrestrial flight, 

Was strange and admirable and infinite, 

Is it not now the same, yet mightier still, 

Free to go out and to return at will ! 

Is freedom blind of memory above ? 

Or shall the free remember, and not love ; 

Or, loving, smile in absence evermore, 

Coldly debarred from all they felt before ? 



HADES. 141 

For me, I doubt not, though no human eye 
Pierces that interval of mystery, 
Lying in cloud, with dark conjectures rife, 
Beyond the gates of that which we call life, 
That still the dead behold me night and day, 
Still hear my words, and, watching in my way, 
Smile, if my deeds have worth and single scope, 
Full of high sympathy and God-like hope, 
True hope, not now akin to doubt and fear — 
While daily I draw nearer and more near. 

Limned upon the heart in lines more true, 
More moving sweet, than ever pencil drew, 
Still will I cherish thee from youth to age, 
Dearest companion of my pilgrimage. 
Pleasant it is to trace each well-known scene, 
Musing in silence where thy feet have been, 
And to be able, when my soul is drear, 
To feel " A mother's lips have spoken here ; 
Here the flower withers, and the leaf falls dead, 
But that dear speech can never be unsaid." 
Nor only thus — but every room hath grown 
Impregnate with a memory of its own. 



142 



HADES. 



Here, kneeling with clasped hands about her chair, 

We murmured lispingly our childish prayer ; 

Here anger died before her accents mild, 

And brother was to brother reconciled .; 

Or kind rebuke, urged lovingly apart, 

Drew generous tears, and changed the weeper's heart ; 

Here, worn with watchings, anxious and alone, 

She calmed her sick one's suffering with her own, 

Soother of pain, wherever pain might be, 

^Tot for me only, but the most for me. 



Often, a subtil anguish to assuage, 
I turn, for thought, to some poetic page ; 
But from the first blank leaf before me rise 
These words, " A mother's gift," and dim my eyes; 
Three little words — yet meaning vast they bear, 
Owned by my heart the sweetest poem there. 
Writ with a tale whose sameness cannot pall, 
That one blank leaf is more divine than all ; 
Yet all in their degree the charm partake, 
And lofty verse grows loftier for her sake, 
So, while I feed upon each hidden theme, 
And link each spot with its pecidiar dream, 






HADES. 143 

From my rapt being falls off the crust defiled, 
And once again I am a little child. 
Henceforth, though good desires in frailty melt, 
I cannot wholly lose what I have felt. 
There lives, though planted in a barren place, 
A love which is the hate of all things base. 
Deeds foully done, my mother, which should be 
A barrier built between my soul and thee, 
Come laden with such agonies intense, 
And fettered with so dire a consequence, 
That still I cannot do them, if I would — 
One hope preserves me negatively good. 

may I more and more that hope enfold, 
Who the true substance lightly held of old ! 
Though in my breast there beats a wavering will 

1 feel that I have power to please thee still ; 
And Christ, in mercy to my soul, with thine 
Hath made his own pure service to combine. 
I do for Him whate'er is done for thee — 
How vast a boon to frail humanity ! 

Hence, by a road not wholly without flowers, 
Cometh unnameable the hour of hours, 



144 HADES. 

Kich with, all wealth to which our hopes aspire, 
Acme of all experience, all desire, 
When faithful eyes that hunger for the light 
Feel all the wonders of God's world in sight. 
Eye hath not seen, ear heard, nor spirit known, 
What there the Lord will offer to His own. 
Yet certain is it that no doubts or fears 
Thither ascend, no partings and no tears. 
Then may I see the Highest face to face ! 
Then may I know thee in thine own true place ! 
There with changed lips may I thy kindness bless ! 
And thine no longer shall be answerless. 






145 



SONNETS. 



My love for thee no taint of earthliness 
Draws, a white flame on altar white and clean ; 
I think oft that the like was never seen, 
Star never yet so fair did shine to bless : 
Though once I felt it as in dreams not less, 
Ere my dear mother from the flesh did part ; 
But youth, all fire in blood and frost in heart, 
Seared the soul's eye, till came the unblinding stress 
Of sorrow and bereavement. Now I know ; 
And now that I am old in all but years, 
Love wells anew, far different yet the same, 
And for the bitter grapes of inward blame 
Sweet vestal flowers in my waste garden grow, 
And my dry life is dewed with happy tears. 

K 



146 



II. 



Have I well thought what all this means indeed. 

This friendship with a woman pure as snow — 

I to whom circumstance and want and woe 

That lawfully to enjoy which all men need 

Bar, under peril of that extreme self-hate 

Which vile self-love in the end will surely breed, 

"While to he lawless in it is utter fate, 

Evil, accursed, importunate, unsweet, 

And against all good things to shut the gate ? 

Can I behold her, and no raven feet 

Set their foul print hereafter in my heart ? 

Often come near, and no unholy voice 

Lure me to listen and dream ? Take Thou my part, 

God ! for I believe I make true choice. 



147 



in. 



Ever at morn when I mine eyelids lift, 

After the silver slumbers of the night, 

Thee first I think of, my spirit of light, 

Whose loveliness to me is God's best gift. 

Lowly I thank Him when my heart I sift 

And feel that it by thine is purified ; 

Thy strength, thy sweetness breathing at my side 

All day, lest backward to old sins I drift. 

Duty to me was dull and heavy and hard, 

She tore my quivering life against the grain ; 

But when to thine her sainted voice I feign, 

The mask falls, a dear brow with glory starred 

Shines, the night sings. never through my stain 

That angel-influence be cut off or marred ! 



148 



IV. 



If she could dive into my heart's deep core, 
And take the evil records that lie there, 
And spread them to the light, and read them o'er, 
Ev'n as He reads, whose dread rebuke I fear, 
Who all doth oversee and overhear — 
Then, seeing how act and thought live wide apart, 
This blurred with guilt, that other accounted clear, 
Till the good work, desired not in the heart, 
Turns wormwood to the doer, and is not well, 
Face heavenward set, feet moving swift to hell- 
Then she that leaned from her calm sphere to mine, 
And planted a good seed, would marvel much, 
Yet not for this remove her healing touch, 
Xor veil the pure lamp of her eyes divine. 



149 



THE GEAVE. 

The grave, the dark cold grave, the silent grave ! 
Its chains are cast about the forms I loved, 
And I am left alone upon the earth 
Friendless — for where is he that will befriend 
The fallen, or take share in his distress ? 
The wounded spirit hath no resting-place, 
But like the dove, leaving its refuge-ark, 
Findeth no settlement, and only grief, 
Silent companion of the weary hours, 
Follows my footsteps till the day of death. 
My very life is lifeless, and my hope 
Is changed into the fulness of despair. 
Grave, Grave, Grave, if thou couldst render up 



150 THE GRAVE. 

The cold hearts that lie slumbering on thy breast, 
And grant one moment's earnest interchange 
Of yearnings and deep thought, there were an heart 
Should beat with stirring pulses of wild joy, 
And take once more the wings it hath let fall. 



151 



THE TWO WILLS. 

Oft as I act or think or speak, 
Comes battle of two wills within, 

This like an infant poor and weak, 
That like a demon, strong for sin. 

This labours, flutteringly alive, 
As if a cold spark went and came ; 

That other doth against it drive 
Eed torrents of devouring flame. 

Yet mark the exceeding power of God, 
How like a rock His promise stands- 

That demon to the dust is trod, 
Slain by the feeble infant hands. 



152 THE TWO WILLS. 

That fluttering life, so faint and cold, 
That one pale spark of pure desire, 

Sun-like arises, and behold, 

God's rainbow in the falls of fire ! 

mystery far beyond my thought ! 

I trembled on the brink of hell : 
Into what Paradise am I caught, 

What heavenly anthems round me swell ! 



153 



THE GRIEF OF PLEASURES. 

Through miry paths I laboured on ; 

Dark fell trie mist ; I could not see ; 
But when my feet were almost gone, 

A voice said, " Turn, and look on me." 

Who com'st thou, taunted like a thief, 
By hard men, joyous in thy fall ? 

Who art thou, yearning pale with grief 
To some friend in the judgment-hall ? 

glance too kind for broken vow, 
For crime sinned often and afresh ! 

thorns, that wring the purest brow 
Made ever yet from human flesh ! 



154 THE GRIEF OF PLEASURES. 

printed hands, printed feet, 

side, dug to the quick with steel ! — 

1 marvel, but no answering heat 

Strikes through my breast, to make it feel. 

Ah Lord ! but if Thy grace impart 
True sorrow for my inward stain, 

That look will pierce me to the heart, 
That crown will tear me to the brain. 

Those marks upon Thy feet and hands, 
That furrow in Thy sinless side, 

Will sear me as with iron brands, 
While I with Thee hang crucified. 

Nay, but the World — too far, too much 
She lures me with her power to please. 

How can I bear Thy healing touch 
To rob me of my sweet disease 1 

For e'en again that path of mire, 

That dim place, where the mist came down, 
Seems, for its joy, worth endless fire, 

Such dreams my soul in poison drown. 



THE GRIEF OF PLEASURES. 155 

1 bathe me in a false delight, 

Chew dust for bread ; yet, Lord, I pray, 
Come, for without Thee day is night — 

Come now, for with Thee night is day. 

Yea, by Thy love, Thy toil to save, 

Thy prayer, Thy groans, Thy bloody sweat, 

Thy death, Thy rising from the grave, 

Look down from heaven, and hear me yet ! 



156 



ADVENT. 

How by shining forms attended, 

By what golden stair, 
He, the Son of God, descended — 

Tell me, Earth and Air ! — 
Hark ! the heaven itself is ringing, 

All the bine wide arch 
Rolls a sonnd of angels singing 

His triumphant march. 

Not with iron steeped in slaughter, 
£Tor with blood-red feet, 

Comes He, but like rills of water 
Where the dry suns beat. 



ADVENT. 157 

Love with happy eyes before Him 

Melteth sin like snow ; 
All whom He hath made adore Him, 

Fount of peace below. 

Wise men of the East unravel 

Wondrous signs afar ; 
Forth to Judah's land they travel, 

Led by the new star. 
Thither, for their soul divineth 

Some great Birth foretold, 
Each his several gift consigneth, 

Incense, myrrh, and gold. 

On the quiet hills, far sleeping 

In a silver light, 
Shepherds lonely watch were keeping 

'Mid their flocks by night, 
When strange harmonies above them 

Bursting, wave on wave, 
Told of Christ come down to love them, 

Christ, supreme to save. 



158 ADVENT. 

Turn and look where feeble, tender, 

Helpless to behold, 
Lies our King, bereft of splendour, 

Touched with heat and cold, 
In a stable, in a manger, 

Heir to sorrows born, 
Even He, a babe, a stranger, 

Naked and forlorn. 

Tell me what divine affections 

Throng that infant brain ; 
Say what dreamy recollections 

Breathe, preluding pain. 
. Holy Child, priest, prince, and prophet, 

That mysterious rest 
Shadows, though men know not of it, 

Anguish in Thy breast. 

Bead, man, that sacred story, 

How the God most High 
Came down, emptied of His glory, 

Here to mourn and die — 



ADVENT. 159 

Canst thou, ere the long nights darken 

O'er thine evil day, 
Canst thou hear it, and not hearken, 

Weep, repent, obey? 

Yet when thou art rilled with sadness 

At thy Saviour's woe, 
Peals an angel-strain of gladness, 

And thy joys o'erflow. 
By that all-sufficing spirit, 

Born to human breath, 
Souls eternity inherit, 

And men vanquish death. 

Thus to hail Thine advent hither 

Grant, Lord, to me 
Large delight and griefs together 

May united be. 
Here though bitterness hath found Thee, 

For our guilt undone, 
God's high psean sails around Thee 

Eor a conquest won. 



160 ADVENT. 

Thus alternately to borrow 

Health from pain and loss, 
Joy's companionship with sorrow 

Yield me from Thy cross ; 
Tears for Thy deep tribulation 

And sin's wine-press trod, 
Praise for uttermost salvation 

And the hymns of God. 



161 



THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. 

Nothing now is left to do, 
All the labour is gone through, 
Christ hath bought us with His blood, 
Proved the work, and found it good, 
Sealed, and writ with iron pen, 
The unutterable Amen. 

Look not for the fiery car 
Borne above the winds afar, 
Where the angel-horses beat 
Golden air with flying feet, 
Flaming by a path untrod 
In among the stars of God. 

As to earth, with no high name, 
Nor like earthly kings He came, 

L 



162 THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. 

3Tow rejected of His own, 
Grandly quiet and alone, 
He returneth to His rest, 
Back into the Father's breast. 

Only by a chosen few 

Who believe His promise true, 

Eat His bread, and drink His cup, 

He is seen as He goes up, 

Till the cloud, that waiting lies, 

Veils Him from their yearning eyes. 

On the pure lips, as He passed, 
Words of blessing were the last ; 
His receding hands outspread 
Pour redemption on their head ; 
But the cloud comes in between, 
And the form is no more seen. 

Spake beside them, in their sight, 
Two men robed in shining white : 
" Why in wonder thus do ye 
Gaze, men of Galilee ? 



THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. 163 

Hence, nor from the work refrain 
Till your Christ shall come again." 

Then into the world they fare, 
And His love goes with them there ; 
To life's daily tasks they turn, 
And His secret presence learn ; 
While they do His gracious will 
All is good and nothing ill. 

Comes a day when on the earth 
The new Kingdom shall have birth, 
And, with many a wondrous sign, 
Judah shall arise and shine, 
But the season and the hour, 
These are in the Father's power. 

jSTow let us new comfort draw 
From the vision which they saw, 
And ourselves example take 
From the words those angels spake, 
Nor from the good work refrain 
Till our Christ shall come again. 



164 THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. 

And if here, in light so dim, 
Toil itself is sweet for Him — 
If, when nnder clouds we go, 
From the Cross true pleasures flow, 
What if ever we should stand, 
Crowned in the celestial land, 
With the saints at God's right hand ! 



165 



'ADHjESIT PAVIMENTO.' 

This is no manly sorrow to sit still 

With hands down-dropped in effortless despair — 

Shall the forgetful hours no more fulfil 

Their cancelled trust, that thou with unnerved will 

Findest to falter ? or is Fate thy slave, 

That thou dost linger in this idle air, 

Madly deferring to attempt the hill, 

Nor heedest in thy dream that yawning grave, 

Till armed Death shall whisper thee " Too late " ? 

This is thy work, sin ! what tongue can tell 

The palsying power of thy effeminate groans ? 

Thy musings eat the marrow from the bones. 

Memory of thee, in their extreme estate, 

Forbids men's souls to labour and be well. 



166 



'DE PROFUNDIS.' 

Out of the deeps how often hath my cry 
Gone up to God on the wild wings of prayer ! 
Even so often hath He deigned to hear ; 
So often hath He said, " Thou shalt not die ; " 
So often, " Stand upon thy feet once more ;" 
So often, " Serve Me better than before/' — 
But I, the river of my pain being past, 
Slighted His succour who had borne me through, 
Daily deferring the sweet service due, 
Till seemed that Mercy's self might scarce refrain 
Her patient hands from vengeance at the last — 
But Thee, still seeking Thy reluctant sheep 
'Mid thorny-tangled brakes that pierce Thee deep, 
Iron ingratitude repels in vain. 



16' 



'DEFECIT AMTMA MEA.' 

Lord, when my heart looks down into my heart, 

And sees there a Gehenna void and black, 

Through the cold channels my life rolleth back 

Mute, shuddering, all-unable to convert 

To health's sweet uses the sulphureous air. 

Also when I behold Thy purity, 

So infinitely averse from all that I 

Have in my foolish frenzy counted fair, 

Thy wholesome light scorches like fiery flame, 

And deepest death seems deeper ; hope is fled ; 

And anguish, with inextricable net 

Folding me close, impels me dumb with dread 

To regions where repentance never came, 

Where I can no more ask Thee to forget. 



168 



'MISEBERE.' 

Yet will I kneel, sweet Saviour — for Thy love, 
Is it not wide as Nature ? I have heard 
That not alone Thou dwellest far above, 
But in the cloisters of the contrite heart 
Thou hauntest, and sweet counsel dost impart, 
And calm the spirit by conviction stirred. 
Surely Thou canst not me alone shut out 
From all partaking of Thy mercy's store. 
I dare not entertain so dark a doubt. 
Thou who dost lighten the afflicted breast, 
And bear the burden of our proper grief, 
I have a load more weary than the rest, 
A bitterer need soliciting relief — 
Wilt Thou not therefore comfort me the more ? 



169 



L'EUVOL 

In sorrow old, but young in years, 
I would not vex life's happier round. 

I envy none, I ask no tears, 

But till my own appointed ground. 

Yet, if I seem to speak of grief, 

Tis scarce worth wonder. I have known 
Large losses dealt in moments brief, 

Wide harvests ere their autumn strown. 

Shall I for this indulge complaint, 
Turn traitor, and cry shame on life 1 

No ! — be my prayer, however faint, 

"Lord, help me to strive out my strife." 



170 l'envoi. 

Though of past years I am bereft, 
Heavy with sins not hard to scan ; 

Yet, for the remnant that is left, 
I'll bear me as becomes a man. 

And if to see another's loss 

Can make one soul aware of gain, 

Come hither, and behold my cross, 
Thou who canst feel a brother's pain. 

Life truly is a gorgeous dream ; 

But, when the heart can understand, 
I^ot quite so darksome as they seem 
• The death-clouds loom on yonder strand. 



TRANSLATIONS 



173 



HECTOE AND ANDBOMACHE. 

(Homer's Iliad, vi. 390.) 

So from the house went Hector back with speed, 

Through the wide city, to the western gates, 

Meaning that way to pass forth to the field. 

There running, when he came, behold his wife, 

Andromache, the brave Eetion's child, 

Cilician ruler, who in Thebe dwelt, 

Under the woods of Placus. With her came 

A maiden, bearing on her breast the child, 

Tender of soul, as yet a babe in arms, 

Hector's one darling, like a lovely star. 

He then beholding smiled upon his babe 

In silence ; but his wife stood weeping by, 

And clasped him by the hand, and spake, and said 



174 HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. 

Dear one, thine own brave soul shall be thy fate. 
Thou hast no pity for thy child, or me, 
Ere long thy widow, when the Achaian men 
Close round thee like a flood, and lay thee low — 
And thou lost, I were better in my grave ! 
Xo comfort then — but sorrow. I have now 
'No father, and no mother ; for divine 
Achilleus slew my father, when he sacked 
High-gated Thebe, fair Cilician town. 
Eetion he slew there, but stripped him not ; 
Awe was upon him ; with his gilded arms 
He burned him, piling o'er his bones a mound ; 
And elms were planted by the Oread nymphs, 
Children of Zeus. And brethren I had seven. 
All in one day went down into the earth ; 
Swift-foot divine Achilleus slew them all, 
'Mid their slow kine and sheep of silver fleece. 
And for the queen my mother, with the spoil 
Erought hither, whom for ransom he let go, 
Her the divine maid-archer Artemis 
Pierced with an arrow in her father's halls. 
Hector, thou to me art mother dear, 



HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. 175 

And father, brother, husband, all in one ! 
Have pity, pass not from the walls, I pray, 
Nor leave thy child an orphan, and thy wife 
A widow. Eange beside the fig-tree hill 
Thy bands, where most the city is scaleable, 
And on the wall the footing easiest proved. 
For by that way their bravest made assault 
Thrice, with the two Aiantes, the renowned 
Idomeneus, the Atridae, and the son 
Of Tydeus, whether by a seer advised, 
Or by their own heart evermore led on. 

And the large white -plumed Hector answering 
spake : 
All this I know, dear wife, and feel it all. 
Yet am I filled with overpowering shame 
Of long-robed Trojan women and Trojan men, 
If like a dastard from the field I slink. 
No, for my soul I cannot. I have learned 
Still to go forth amid the first in fight, 
Building my father's glory and my own : 
Albeit I know well, both in mind and heart, 



i 



176 HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. 

That the day coines when sacred Troy shall fall, 
And Priam, and his people, and his power. 
Yet not the Trojan sorrow of that time, 
Not Hecuba's own sorrow, nor my sire's, 
Nor of my brothers, who so many and brave, 
Trod by the feet of foemen, in the dust 
Shall then lie mute, can touch my heart so near 
As thine, when some one of the Achaian men 
Leads thee bereft of freedom, in thy tears, 
To Argos ; there, it may be, at a loom s 
Not thine to work, or from Messeis well, 
Or Hypereia, to bear pails in grief, 
Eeluctant much, yet conquered by strong fate. 
Then some one may behold thy tears, and say : 
' See now, the wife of Hector, first in arms, 
Troy's great horse-captain in the Ilian siege.' 
So will he speak, and thou shalt wail anew 
For anguish, and sore need of one like me 
To ward the yoke of thraldom from thy neck. 
But let me lie dead in the mounded earth 
Ere of thy capture and sad cries I hear ! 



HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. 177 

He spake, and to the babe reached forth his arms, 
Who to the bosom of his fair-zoned nurse 
Clung with a cry, scared at his father's look, 
And by the brass helm, and the horse-hair plume, 
Waving aloft so grimly. And they laughed, 
Father and mother ; and the nodding helm 
He in a moment from his head removed, 
And laid it shining on the earth, then kissed 
Fondly, and dandled in his arms, the child, 
And called on Zeus and all the gods in prayer : 

Zeus, and all gods, let this my child become 
Famed in the hosts of Troia, even as I, 
In strength so good, and full of power to reign ; 
And, when he cometh from the fight, let men 
Say c A far better than his sire is here.' 
And thus with gory spoils let him return 
From the slain foe, and cheer his mother's heart ! 

He spake, and in the arms of his dear wife 
Laid the fair babe, and to her fragrant breast 

M 



178 HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. 

She clasped him, smiling through a mist of tears. 
And Hector saw, and felt, and pitied her, 
And with his hand caressed her, and thus said : 

Dearest, afflict not overmuch thine heart. 
I^o man at all can send me against fate 
To Hades, and his hour can no man fly, 
Xone, good or bad, that ever yet was born. 
Go home, and look to thine own business there, 
The distaff and the loom, and bid thy maids 
Work — of the war shall men take thought, all men 
Xative in Troy, and I rnyself the most. 

Thus spake brave Hector, and the crested helm 
Took from the ground, and his dear wife passed home, 
Earning sad tears, and turning oft to look. 
Soon to the house she came, and found therein 
Her maidens, and stirred sorrow in them all. 
So Hector, yet alive, in his own house 
They wailed, since no more could they hope in heart 
Eeturning to behold him from the war. 



179 



LINES FKOM SIMCMIDES. 

Nought among mortals can endure for ever ; 

Well spake the Chian bard that men like leaves 
Perish and pass away; but few endeavour 

To lay to heart the truth their ear receives : 
Since each one for himself hath hope that springs 

Like nature in the bosoms of the strong, 
And, while youth blooms with all delightful things, 

Deaf hearts dream visions that must fade ere long. 
For none believeth in old age or death, 

Health on the sick couch turns a careless eye ; 
Fools, that their heart is hardened, when a breath 

Blights all their bloom, and in an hour they die ! 
But thou remember this, and to life's goal 
Draw from the good to satisfy thy soul. 



180 



COEXELIA. 

(Propertius, v. 11.) 

And now I leave thee, as a sacred trust, 

That common pledge, our children ; for this care, 

Branded into my dust, yet breathes and lives. 

Hereafter thou, their father, take for them 

A mother's office ; for thy neck must bear 

The load of all my loved ones. When thou givest 

Thy kisses as they weep, add too their mother's. 

Thine is the burden of the household now. 

If thou have sorrow, let them see thee not ; 

Beguile them, when they come, with tearless cheeks 

And fond caresses. Be it enough for thee 

To weary the long nights with thoughts of me, 

And the beholding of mv form in dreams. 



COKNELIA. 181 

So, when thou speakest to my secret shade, 
Think thou hast answer to thine every word. 
But now, whether it be the door I knew 
Open upon an altered wedding-couch, 
And a step-mother sit where I sat once, 
Speak well, my children, of your father's wife, 
And bear her yoke : before your winning ways 
It must be that her charmed heart will yield. 
Also praise not your mother overmuch, 
For your new parent, matched with her of old, 
Will think scorn of your free and innocent speech— 
Or if my shade content him, and he think 
My ashes of such price, learn well to mark 
The coming of old age, and leave no room 
For cares to enter which beset the life 
Of single men. The number of the years 
Which I have lost, Heaven add unto your days ! 
And so may Paullus, with my offspring left, 
Love to be old ! And it is well — for never 
Clothed I myself in mourning for a child. 
None, none was absent from my funeral rites. 
But I have said. Plead for me, ye that weep, 



182 CORNELIA. 

While grateful Earth pays back the price of life. 
Yea, heaven itself hath opened to the good. 
And may my bones, for all that I have wrought, 
Bide on triumphant to the fields of rest ! 



183 



LIKES FEOM OVID. 

(Tristia, v. 12.) 

" Study the mournful hours away, 
Lest in dull sloth thy spirit pine." 

Hard words thou writest : verse is gay, 
And asks a lighter heart than mine. 

No calms my stormy life" beguile, 
Than mine can be no sadder chance ; 

You bid bereaved Priam smile, 
And Mobe, the childless, dance. 

Is grief or study more my part, 

Whose life is doomed to wilds like these 
Though you should make my feeble heart 

Strong with the strength of Socrates, 



164 LINES FROM OVID. 

Such ruin "would crush wisdom down ; 

Stronger than man is wrath divine. 
That sage, whom Phoebus gave the crown, 

Xever could write in grief like mine. 

Can I my land and thee forget, 

Nbi the felt sorrow wound my breast 

Say that I can — but foes beset 
This place, and rob me of all rest. 

Add that my mind hath rusted now, 
And fallen far from what it was. 

The land, though rich, that lacks the plough 
Is barren, save of thorns and grass. 

The horse, that long hath idle stood, 
Is soon o'ertaken in the race ; 

And, torn from its familiar flood, 
The chinky pinnace rots apace. 

Xor hope that I, before but mean 
Can to my former self return 



LINES FROM OVID. 185 



Long sense of ills hath bruised my brain, 
Half the old fires no longer burn. 



Yet oft I take the pen, and try, 

As now, to build the measured rhyme. 

Words come not, or, as meet thine eye, 
Words worthy of their place and time. 

Last, glory ^cheers the heart that fails, 
And love of praise inspires the mind — 

I followed once Fame's star, my sails 
Filled with a favourable wind. 

But now 'tis not so well with me, 
To care if fame be lost or won. 

Nay, but I would, if that might be, 
Live all unknown beneath the sun. 



186 



FKAGMEOT FKOM OVID. 

ISTo day so damp with the mist and cloud, 
That the rains never cease in the air ; 

No place so rude with the brambly wood 
But some useful herb groweth there ; 

And nothing by Fate is so desolate 
But a smile may be found somewhere. 



EPIGEAM BY PLATO. 

In rapture on the stars above 
Thou gazest, my star, my love. 
Would that I were those happy skies, 
To see thee with ten thousand eyes ! 



187 



THE EECANTATIOK 



(Horace, Od. i. 16.) 



Lovely mother's lovelier daughter, 

Those sharp verses, edged with blame, 
Hurl into the Adrian water, 

Cancel, if thou wilt, with flame. 
Ehea from her mountain-hollow, 

Liber at his royal feasts, 
From his Delphian shrine Apollo, 

Shake the spirit of their priests. 
Hark ! the votaries loud and often 

Shrilly clanging cymbals ring — 
These are savage, but may soften — 

Anger is a sterner thing. 
Not the ship-destroying ocean, 

!Noric steel, or flaming fire, 



188 THE RECANTATION. 

jSTot the storm-god's mighty motion 

Fright it from its purpose dire. 
When Prometheus first transmuted 

Atoms culled for human clay, 
Deep the lion's rage he rooted 

In our breast, as legends say. 
Anger with a grievous ruin 

Smote Thyestes and his line ; 
This, the fount of sheer undoing, 

Left of cities scarce a sign, 
"When, among the sworded nations, 

Armies flushed with pride and spoil 
Ploughed up many a state's foundations 

Planted in imperial soil. 
Curb thy soul with juster measures — 

]\Ie youth's sweetness, prone to wrong, 
Heated into quick displeasures, 

And an ill-directed song. 
Xow my bitterness would mellow • 

I annul the trenchant strain ; 
Be once more my true love-fellow; 

Take me to thy heart again ! 



189 



THE MEAN. 

(Horace, Od. ii. 10.) 

This is the better life, dear friend, 
Not always in mid sea to wend, 
Nor yet distrustfully portend 

Storms hourly near, 
And hug, not wisely in the end, 

111 shores in fear. 

That man who in his soul hath seen 
How lovely is the golden mean, 
He lacks the wretchedness unclean 

Of used-up walls ; 
He lacks, in soberness serene, 

Wealth's envied halls. 



190 THE MEAN. 

Pines of a stature proud and vast 
Shake oftener when the winds rush past, 
Down to the earth high towers are cast 

With heavier fall, 
And still the fiery lightnings blast 

The hill-tops tall. 



The breast, that wisdom's rule obeys, 
Hopes for a change in evil days, 
And fears it amid prosperous ways 

Eemote from ill ; 
Since God both causes and allays 

Our storms at will. 



If fortune fail thee now, yet know 
It will not evermore be so; 
Apollo may his lute forego, 

But not for ever, 
Nor bears he always a strung bow 

And armed quiver. 



THE MEAN. 191 

Thou, when adversities ensue, 

Prove thyself constant, brave, and true, 

And, when the risks seem far and few, 

'Mid favouring gales 
Furl in good hour, with caution due, 

Thy swelling sails. 



192 



LOYE RENEWED. 

(Horace. Od. hi. 9.) 
HORACE. 

While to thee no other name was nearer, 
Ere a rival youth aspired to fling 

Round thy snow-white neck embraces dearer, 
I lived richer than a Persian king. 

LYDIA. 

Ere a new flame to thy false heart beckoned, 
When the eider passion seemed divine, 

Nor was Lydia yet to Chloe second, 
Roman Ilia's glory paled to mine. 

HORACE. 

Now lute-learned, skilled in measures tender, 
Thracian Chloe doth my heart enslave. 



LOVE RENEWED. 193 

Life for her I dread not to surrender, 
If the fates my other soul will save. 

LYDIA. 

Child of Thurian Ornytus I cherish ; 

Mutual flames to me doth Calais bear. 
Twice for him will I consent to perish, 

If the fates my darling boy will spare. 

HORACE. 

What if yet the ancient love returning 

Eeunite in brazen yoke us twain, 
If this door, the gold-haired Chloe spurning, 

Welcome cast-off Lydia once again 1 

LYDIA. 

He is fairer than a star in heaven, 

Thou more fierce than Adria's restive sea, 

Light as cork — yet oh ! since choice is given, 
Let me live and love and die with thee ! 



N 



194 






CIVIL WAR 

(HOKACE, EPOD. 7.) 

Whither, whither rush ye in fell wrath '? 

Why fit the sheathed sword to red right hands ? 
Too little hath there yet of Latian death 

Crimsoned the seas and lands 1 

Not that the envious Punic citadel 

Should fall in fire on Koine's victorious day, 

Or the chained Briton, once invincible, 
Move down the Sacred Way. 

But that thou may est the Parthian prayer fulfil, 
A self-destroying city. Not such mind 

Have wolves or lions, such a thirst to kill ; 
They war not with their kind. 



CIVIL WAB. 195 

Doth some blind fury, or a spur more keen, 
Urge you, or crime 1 I pray you, let me know. 

[None answers — their pale stupor may be seen ; 
Their stricken blood beats low. 

This is it : evil bitter fates impel 

Eome's children, the fraternal murder's crime, 
Our deep inheritance, since Eemus fell, 

Of curse unto all time. 



196 



HECTOB'S FAREWELL. 

(Schiller.) 
ANDROMACHE. 

Will niy Hector thus depart for ever 
Where Achilles' wrathful hands deliver 

To his slain Patroclus offerings dread ? 
Where in spear-craft is thy children's teacher, 
Where of honour to the gods the preacher, 

When abysmal Orcus holds thee dead ? 

HECTOR. 

Dearest wife, refrain thy voice of mourning, 
For the field of fight my soul is burning, 

And these arms our Pergamus must save. 
For the gods' most holy hearth contending, 
And the homes of fatherland defending, 

Pass I downward to the Stygian wave. 



hector's farewell. 197 

andromache. 

Nevermore, alas ! thine armour clangeth ; 
Idly in the hall thine iron hangeth ; 

Priam's heroes fall around their sire. 
Thou art gone to where no day-star beameth ; 
Through the glooms Cocytus moaning streameth ; 

E'en thy love in Lethe will expire. 

HECTOR. 

Let each feeling, hope, and thought I cherish, 
In the silent-rolling Lethe perish ! 

Only Love shall never die. 
Hark ! the war-cry on the walls is sounding ; 
Gird my sword upon me ; cease desponding ; 

Hector's Love in Lethe cannot die ! 



198 



LOYAL DEATH. 



(KoRKER. ) 



The knight must forth unto the field of blood, 

Freedom, Fame, Fatherland, his banner's token : 
But first before his loved one's home he stood ; 
He could not leave that fond farewell unspoken. 
" Let not weak tears thine eyes bedew ; 
Hope lives in earth, and help above ; 
And Death shall ever find me true, 
True to my Fatherland and Love/' 

Thus spake he the last words he came to bring, 
Then to the loyal host his good steed bore him ; 

He hastened to the standards of his king, 

And fearless eyed the gathering foe before him. 



LOYAL DEATH. 



199 



" I reck not of yon clouds of death. 

Though hence I nevermore remove, 
Joyfully will I yield my breath, 

Fighting for Fatherland and Love." 



Then where the fire was fiercest on he rode ; 

His path was marked by thousands dead and dying. 
Men to his hero-arm the victory owed ; 

But with the vanquished was the victor lying — 
" Stream on, my blood, flow redly now ; 

My sword doth thy avenger prove. 
True to the last I kept my vow, 
And died for Eatherland and Love." 



TRANSLATIONS OF SACRED PIECES 



203 



0^ THE NATIVITY. 

A child is born in Bethlehem 
And joy is in Jerusalem. 

His form a stable doth defend 



Whose kingdom is without an end. 



Well did the creatures of the stall 
Know in that Child the Lord of all. 

There the Sabaean Kings unfold 
Gifts of myrrh, frankincense, and gold. 



Each as he enters at the door 
Kneeleth the new-born Prince before. 



204 



ON THE NATIVITY. 



The Virgin's womb He doth not scorn, 
Without man's seed conceived and born. 

He blood of our own blood did spring, 
Yet scathless of the Serpent's sting. 

Like unto us without, within, 
Save only in the stamp of sin. 

Sent to reclaim our race o'erthrown, 
Into God's likeness and His own. 

Exulting in this glorious birth 

Bless we the Lord of heaven and earth. 



Praise to the Holy Trinity ! 
Thanksgiving unto God most High ! 



205 



THE CEOWIST OF THOKNS. 

If thou wilt indeed, and truly 
Find whereof to boast, and duly 

Be with glory crowned of God, 
View this coronal, think o'er it, 
Track the steps of Him who bore it, 

Follow in the path He trod. 

For our King this emblem lowly 
Bore with honour, made it holy. 

On the brows divine it stood ; 
In this helmet He arrayed Him, 
Met the ancient Fiend, and laid him, 

Therein triumphed on the Wood. 



206 THE CROWN OF THORNS. 

Helmet unto him that fighteth, 
Wreath of bays when victory lighteth. 

Mitre for the priestly brow ; 
First it was of thorns enwoven, 
Then, on that divine head proven, 

Touched Him, and is golden now. 



Yea, the virtue of Christ's passion 
Twined it in a nobler fashion, 

Changed each prickly spur to gold ; 
Pierced wdth many sins and sorrows, 
Heir to endless death, man borrows 

Ease for thorns, and wealth untold. 



Crown compact of ills tormenting 
To the sinner unrepenting, 

Thorny is it, rough with pain ; 
When the way of truth he learneth, 
Straight to virgin gold it turneth, 

While the heart grows pure again. 



THE CROWN OF THORNS. 207 

Jesu, in Thy love stand near us, 
Help in our own fight, and cheer us, 

Lavish Thy victorious aid ; 
So, we pray Thee, shape our spirit, 
That the glory we inherit 

Of the crown that cannot fade. 



208 



STABAT MATEK. 

(Giacopone.— Died a.d. 1306.) 

Stood the maiden Mother weeping, 
By the Cross her sad watch keeping, 

Xear her dying Son and Lord ; 
Woes wherewith the heart is broken, 
Sorrows never to be spoken, 

Smote her, pierced her like a sword. 

with what vast griefs oppressed 
Bowed the more than woman blessed, 

Mother of God's only Son ! 
what bitterness came o'er her, 
When the dread doom passed before her. 

Seeing her Beloved undone ! 



STAB AT MATER. 209 

Say, can any stand by tearless, 
When so woe-begone and cheerless 

Mourns the Virgin undefiled, 
Or the rising anguish smother, 
When he sees the tenderest mother 

Suffer with her suffering Child ? 



Sacrifice for sins presented, 
Jesus she beheld tormented, 

For her people scourged and slain ; 
In His hour of desolation, 
In the spirit's separation, 

She beheld her dear one's pain. 



Love's pure fountain, let me borrow 

From thine anguish sense of sorrow • 

Make me, Mother, mourn with thee ; 

Be my heart's best offerings given 

Evermore to Christ in heaven ; 

Let me His true servant be ! 
o 



210 STABAT MATER. 

Holy Mother, draw me, win me, 
Plant the Crucified within me, 

Brand His wounds upon my heart ! 
For my sake thy Child was stricken ! 
With His blood my spirit quicken ; 

Half His agonies impart ! 



Let me feel thy sore affliction, 
And my Master's crucifixion 

Share, till life's last dawn appears 
So with thee His cross frequenting, 
Daily would I kneel repenting, 

Meek companion of thy tears. 



Virgin-queen, renowned for ever, 
'Not from me thy sweetness sever ; 

Bid me drink thy sorrow's cup, 
Till my sympathizing spirit 
All Christ's bitter pangs inherit, 

All His bleeding wounds count up. 



STABAT MATER. 211 

Pierce me with my Saviour's piercings, 
Let me taste the cross and cursings, 

And for love the wine-press tread ! 
Through thy kindling inspiration, 
Virgin, let me find salvation 

In the doom of quick and dead ! 

Let Christ's guardian cross attend me, 
And His saving death defend me, 

Cradled in His arms of love ! 
When the body sleeps forsaken, 
Mother, let my soul awaken 

In God's Paradise above ! 



212 



THE PASSIOK 

(Bonayentuea. — Died A.D. 1274. 

"what shame and desolation, 
Working out the world's salvation, 

Deigned the King of Heaven to bear ! 
See Him, bowed with sorrows endless, 
Hungry, thirsty, poor, and friendless, 

Even to the cross repair ! 

Hold His wrongs in recollection, 
Who, in undeserved affliction, 

Wandered through a thankless land : 
Countless agonies unmeasured 
In thy heart of hearts keep treasured, 

If at all thou understand. 



THE PASSION. 213 

To the cross from judgment taken, 
Silent, of His friends forsaken, 

From no torments doth He shrink • 
There His hands and feet they pierced, 
There of gall, as one accursed, 

Gave the King of kings to drink ! 



See, the eye no longer flashes, 
And the face is white like ashes- 
Furrowed with an iron pain. 
On that blessed form unshrouded 
Ancient comeliness is clouded ; 
Scarce doth any grace remain. 



Whoso nearest and believest, 

See that in this grief thou grievest ; 

Groan for heaviness of heart ; 
Vex thy flesh, thy soul, with sorrow ; 
Weeping reach thy hand, and borrow 

From the cross each cruel smart. 



214 THE PASSION. 

With the curse upon Him lying, 
Mark the Man of sorrows dying, 

Strong in pain, our crowning Seed — 
Justly, then, be thou contented 
With thy Lord to be tormented, 

On the cross with Him to bleed. 

Brother, in all work whatever 

Still to see Christ's wounds endeavour, 

Still take up the cross He bore ; 
Count Him thine eternal treasure, 
Let thine heart, with deepening pleasure, 

Feed upon Him more and more. 

Crucified, sustain Thy servant, 
Make my soul with anguish fervent 

Feel Thy passion day by day. 
Lovingly I yearn to cherish 
That sweet cross where Thou didst perish, 

In Thine arms to rjass away ! 



215 



CEUX AVE BENEDICTA! 

Blessed Cross, all hail to thee ! 
Thou o'er death hast victory : 
Nailed to thee my Saviour-King 
For my sins died suffering. 

Thou of trees art chosen queen, 
Thou salvation's medicine, 
Thou dost raise the sinking soul 
And the wounded makest whole. 

Wood most hallowed and divine, 
Thou, to us of life the sign, 
Jesus for thy fruit didst bear ; 
Human hearts find nurture there. 



216 CRUX AVE BENEDICTA! 

While from this kind Cross to all, 
Friends and foeinen, Thou dost call, 
Jesus, Son of God most High, 
0, keep me in memory ! 



217 



ST A1STDEEW TO THE CEOSS. 
(Bede.— Died a.d. 735.) 

Hail victory's most sacred sign, 
Hail glorious monument of grace, 

Cross, on whose breast the Lord divine 
Died to redeem our fallen race ! 

How glorious and how strong to save 
Gleam far and wide thy virtues rare, 

Hallowed by Christ Himself, who gave 
To thee His reverend limbs to bear ! 

Of old around thee, sore-distrest, 

Crouched the pale habitants of earth, 



218 ST ANDREW TO THE CROSS. 

Who now in the believing breast 
Dost plant love's sanctifying mirth. 

This is faith's pastime — when thine arms 
In rest a sainted form enfold, 

While (crown of all thy gracious charms) 
He sees the gates of heaven unrolled. 

The sweet limbs of our Saviour make 
Thy wood than honey sweeter far. 

We count thee worthy for His sake, 
Yea better than all things that are. 

Now gladly at thy foot I stand ; 

I clasp thee round with arms of love ; 
And to thee clinging, heart and hand, 

Climb to the blessedness above. 

Kind one, take up the humblest slave 
Of Him who on thy glorious tree, 

My Lord and Master, freely gave 
The treasures of His life for me. 



ST ANDEEW TO THE CROSS. 219 

Thus Andrew spake, when he beheld 
The Cross set for his final strife — 
Then to the soldier standing by 
His garment gave, and, lifted high, 
Slept on the tree of life. 



220 



THE KESUKKECTION. 

(Peter the Venerable.— Died a.d. 1156.) 

Magdalene, thy grief lay down, 
Calm thine eyelids' tearful shower ! 

'Tis no longer Simon's feast, 
'Tis no longer sorrow's hour 

Thousand blisses round thee spring ; 

These thy soul are summoning. 
Hallelujah ! 

Magdalene, thy smile take up, 

Stamp with mirth thy lucid brow ! 

Punishment and pain are fled, 
Light is shining o'er thee now. 

Jesus Christ hath freed the world, 

And strong Death to ruin hurled. 
Hallelujah ! 



THE RESURRECTION. 221 

Magdalene, aloud rejoice ! 

Christ returneth from the grave. 
All the agony is past ; 

Death the king is Death the slave. 
He whom dying thou didst weep, 
Wakes triumphant from His sleep. 
Hallelujah ! 

Magdalene, thine eyes lift up, 
View thy Lord with mute amaze ! 

Mark the merciful sweet brow, 

On the five wounds wondering gaze, 

Which like pearls about Him shine, 

Decking the new Life Divine. 
Hallelujah ! 

Magdalene, take life and live ! 

For thy light hath risen again. 
!N~ow behold, with leaping heart, 

Elotted out Death's power of pain. 
Sunless sorrow far hath flown ; 
Make the songs of Love thine own. 
Hallelujah ! 



222 



THE EESXJEEECTIOK 

(Adam of St Victor.— Died about a.d. 1180.) 

Now the world's fresh dawn of birth 
Teems with new rejoicings rife ; 

Christ is rising, and on earth 
All things with Him rise to life. 

Feeling this memorial Day 

Him the elements obey, 

Serve, and lay aside their strife. 

Gleamy fire flits to and fro, 
Throbs the everlasting air, 

Water without pause doth flow, 
And the earth stands firm and fair ; 

Light creations upward leap, 

Heavier to the centre keep, 
All things renovation share. 



THE RESURRECTION. 223 

Clearer are the skies above, 

And more quiet is the sea, 
Each low wind is full of love, 

Our own vale is blooming free ; 
Dryness flushing into green, 
Warm delight where frost hath been, 

For Spring cometh tenderly. 



Melted is the ice of Death, 

And the World's Prince driv'n away ; 
From amidst us vanisheth 

All his old tyrannic sway. 
He, who sought to clasp more tight 
That wherein he held no right, 

Fails of his peculiar prey. 



Life is vanquisher of death, 
And the joy man lost of old 

That he now recovereth, 
Even Paradise to hold. 



224 THE RESURRECTION. 

For the cherub, keeping ward, 
By the promise of the Lord 
Turns the many-naming sword, 
And the willing gates unfold ! 






225 



E A S T E E HYMK 
(Adam of St Victok.) 

Welcome the triumphal token, 

Day to ruined world how sweet ! 
When the foeman's power was broken, 

And our ills found comfort meet. 
Know ye not this day so splendid, 

Shining with so fair a crown, 
Witnessed sin's dominion ended, 

And the Evil One cast down 1 

Then, the Prince of darkness flying, 
Every baneful charm did cease, 

Health came to the sick and dying, 
Eose on earth the reign of peace ; 
p 



226 EASTER HYMN. 

Death the sting of death undoing, 
Hope of life returned to-day ; 

Sin's stronghold was hurled to ruin, 
And pollution chased away. 

Since then Christ our souls hath cherished 

In a union such as this, 
And on earth hath freely perished 

For the things we wrought amiss, 
Rightly may we hymn His story, 

And our paschal banquet spread, 
Heart, word, work proclaim His glory, 

Eising with Him from the dead ! 



227 



HYMN TO THE HOLY SPIEIT. 

(Kobert II. of France.— Died a.d. 1031.) 

Come, Holy Spirit, come ; 
Earthward from Thy heavenly home 
Flash the flowing radiance bright. 

Come, Thou Eather of the poor ; 
Come, Thou Giver of good store ; 
Come, of hearts Thou sovran light. 

Comforter the truest, best, 
Who the soul with pleasant rest 
Pleasantly dost entertain : 

Ease in toil and cordial sweet, 
Shelter in the burning heat, 
Soothing influence in pain. 



228 HYMN TO THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

most blessed blessed Light, 

Shine with splendour pure and white, 

Shine upon Thy saints within ; 

For in man, without Thy grace, 
Nothing ever can have place, 
Nothing void of shame and sin. 

Wash to whiteness every stain, 
Slake the thirsty soil with rain, 
Heal the hurt that needs Thy care ; 

Bend the stubborn to Thy sway, 
Cheer the cold with genial day, 
Make the crooked straight and clear. 

Holy Spirit, to the just, 

Who in Thee believe and trust, 

Give the sacred Sabbath-rest ; 

Give the guerdon they have won, 
Give supreme salvation's crown, 
Give the ages ever blest. 



229 






TO THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

(Adam of St Victor.) 

Thou from Father, Son, proceeding, 
Sanctify our praise and pleading, 

Paraclete, enthroned above — 
Lips of inspiration lend us, 
And responsive ardours send us 

To Thine own rich flames of love. 

Hail by Father, Son, beloved ! 
Equal unto each, approved 

Peer of perfect Deity ; 
All things filling, all sustaining, 
Warder of the stars, and reigning 

Moveless o'er the moving sky. 



230 TO THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

Light the clearest, Light the dearest, 
Who our inward darkness cheerest 

With Thy cloud-dissolving ray. 
By Thine advent men are mended, 
Sin departs, her empire ended, 

And sin's rust is wiped away. 



Knowledge of the truth Thou sowest ■ 
Thou the road of justice showest, 

And the pleasant paths of peace. 
Far from hearts perverse Thou niest, 
But, where goodness is, suppliest 

Access to Thy mysteries. 



Xothing dark where Thou explainest ; 
Nothing foul where Thou remainest ; 

Thy pervading presence bright 
Wakes exultant spirit-voices \ 
Conscience feelingly rejoices 

In the cleanness of Thy light. 



TO THE HOLY SPIRIT. 231 

Thou canst render heart-strings tender, 
And expellest, where Thou dwellest, 

Clouds of heaviness and gloom. 
Flaming ever, burning never, 
Hallowed fires from pain deliver 

Human souls, where Thou dost come. 

Intellects that erewhile slumbered, 
With a deadening crust encumbered, 

Quicken in Thy glorious light. 
Into speech-divine Thou mouldest 
Tongues, and lovingly upholdest 

Hearts made ready for the right. 

Help of souls for succour groaning, 
Comforter of mourners moaning, 

Eefuge of the friendless poor, 
Teach us to cast off the leaven 
Of this earth : to Thine own Heaven 

Every erring love restore ; 
Clear from taint what wrong hath blighted, 
Eeconcile the disunited, 

Be our safeguard evermore ! 



232 TO THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

Thou who once, in visitation, 
Strength and lofty consolation 

To Thy trembling Church didst send, 
Visit, if it be Thy pleasure, 
Even us, and in like measure 

All who at Thine altars bend. 

Equal majesty and power 
Stand the everlasting dower 

Of the Godhead — Three in One. 
Thou, the Third, art rightly reckoned 
Equal with the First and Second ; 
• Ordered scale existeth none. 

Wherefore, in Thy mighty Presence, 
Sharer of the Father's essence, 

Humbly do Thy servants sue. 
We to God the Father ever 
And to God the Son deliver 

And to Thee our praises due. 



233 



AD DOMINUM. 

(Marbod.— Died a.d. 1125.) 

God-man, from Thy heavenly city, 
On the pitiable take pity. 

Still to sin our frail heart yearneth ; 
Still to earth our earth returneth. 

Hear us on Thy kindness calling \ 
Keep our ruined house from falling. 

What is man, from Eve descended, 
But a death-shoot to be ended ; 

Or a worm of feeble senses, 
Helpless, and without defences % 



234 AD DOMINUM. 

Be not wroth against Thy creature, 
Barred from holiness by nature ; 

Do not Thou from mercy sever 
Souls that can be sinless never. 

]STot such hardness canst Thou cherish, 
Thus to cause Thine own to perish. 

Worthless man, struck mute with wonder, 
Cannot answer to Thy thunder. 

For we are but smoke or shadow, 
Frail as grasses of the meadow. 

Father, from Thy heavenly city, 
On the pitiable take pity. 



235 






THE HEAVENLY JEEUSALEM. 

In Jerusalem above, 
In the city of My love, 
Each sainted happy spirit 
Doth his own star inherit, 
His own lamp, which for ever 
I with Myself, their Light, 
Their true pure Light, illumine. 

Perpetual life is there, 
Made beautiful and clear 
By wisdom, My large river 
Of joy that streameth ever. 
Three hierarchies of angels, 
Virtues divine of heaven, 
Move round Me for a bulwark. 



236 THE HEAVEXLY JERUSALEM. 

There a deep passionate hymn 
Chief the high Seraphim, 
In divine chorus singing, 
Send gloriously up -ringing. 
Love falls like fury upon them, 
And all their fury is love : 
Their fire is the Lord Jehovah. 

And keen-eyed Cherubim 
Who know the Abysses dim, 
Where from His works of wonder 
God rends the veil asunder, 
And to their mind all marvels 
Spreads open like a book, 
To read, pierce, and interpret. 

Here all that have made well 
Their final peace, shall dwell, 
With rest divine anointed, 
On thrones by Me appointed. 
By their mouth I deliver 
What sentences soever 
I shape from everlasting. 



THE HEAVENLY JERUSALEM. 237 

These that dominion hold 
In the celestial fold 
Adore Me, their chief Pastor 
And universal Master, 
Yea, their own power abase, 
And fall upon their face, 
These sovereigns of the race. 

And, near in rank to these, 
God's Principalities, 
Me, Prince of kings, adoring, 
Me, the Prime Cause, exploring, 
With wonder and delight 
Behold Me, apprehend Me, 
By whom they shine so bright. 

Who at My single will 
Can everything fulfil, 
Doth this the heart not ravish 
That only Love I lavish ] 
They feel it, and before Me 
Fall wondering to adore Me, 
God's Principalities ! 



238 



THE HEAVENLY JERUSALEM, 



By many a sign and token 
Of rites on earth unspoken, 
With mysteries paid duly, 
The Virtues clearly, truly, 
Prove in themselves for ever 
That of all sacred virtues 
I am the Lord and Giver. 

There the Archangels still 
Know even what they will ; 
My counsels, old and new, 
Stand naked to their view ; 
They know Me, when I pour 
Wide on the world My terrors, 
Then to be loved the more. 



Great judgments many I keep 
In the Abysmal Deep, 
JSTot from My angels hidden, 
Nor to My saints forbidden. 
These they spread forth to mortals, 
That who refuse to love Me 
May learn at least to fear Me. 



THE HEAVENLY JEKUSALEM. 239 

Thus to all spirits blest 

I become manifest ; 

My chosen, My created, 

Find Me for whom they waited ; 

On highest alike and lowest 

In wondrous revelation 

I pour My illumination. 

Whether with passion glowing, 
Or all things largely knowing, 
Crowned with dominion high, 
Or ministers of the sky, 
"What they are, and what may be, 
All alike they have from Me, 
Whom for evermore they see. 

Sweet is their food and pleasant 
Where they behold Me present ; 
I am their bread and wine, 
Their nourishment divine. 
Virtue, glory, and brightness, 
Fair with a wonderful whiteness, 
These are their shining apparel. 



240 THE HEAYEXLY JERUSALEM. 

Me they praise, resting never, 
In hymns of love for ever. 
Thus is My sainted throng 
Perpetually made strong : 
Hence gloriously they shine, 
Wrapt in a luminous ether 
Of excellence like Mine. 

These living thus for ever 
Enjoy Me the Life-giver ; 
All splendour doth ensphere them, 
For I, the Light, stand near them. 
Touched with divine desire 
They rise anointed with fire 
As gods, with Me united. 

man, so feeble and poor, 
Thus now thy days employ, 
That thou mayest enter the door 
Where dwell the angels in joy. 
Lo ! to this hope I choose thee, 
Give Me thy hand, thy labour, 
And I will never refuse thee. 






THE HEAVENLY JERUSALEM. 241 

Why not at least endeavour? 

Since from My hand thou earnest 

Fashioned to live for ever, 

In likeness of Me, whom thou shamest. 

I made the angels above, 

Thee too I formed with My fingers, 

And loved with exceeding love. 

Under whose standard thou 
Shalt march to the battle now, 
Know when, man, thou hast died, 
With the same shalt thou ever abide. 
Such as the toil is found, 
Such will the pay come round ; 
And the wage is for everlasting. 

King of the Angels, hear ! 
Crown of the Saints, give ear ! 
And of Thy kindness deign 
To join us to Thy train, 
To praise Thee with heart and voice, 
And with Thy blest to rejoice, 
And to hymn Thy glory for ever ! 
Q 



242 



MAN 

(Alaxts.— Died about a.d. 1200. 

Like a picture all creation 
Standetli for our contemplation. 

'Tis our mirror and our book. 
Life and death are there presented, 
All our pilgrimage imprinted. 

Calling men to pause and look. 

For the rose doth paint our story. 
And the rose doth glass our glory, 

Eeadeth all our life's brief hour. 
In the early morn she bloometh ; 
Aged, when the evening gloometh, 

Falls off the deflowered flower. 



MAN. 243 

Breathing she her life exhaleth ; 



Soon her blushing beauty paleth ; 

Dying came the flower to earth ; 
Old and new, alike death-laden, 
Aged, yet a youthful maiden, 

Fading in her dawn of birth. 



So unto the youthful comer 
Ministers his mortal summer ; - 

Brightly smiles the fleeting flower — 
But that morning hath its even, 
Soon athwart the darkling heaven 

Cometh on life's twilight hour. 



Pain is all man's life and being, 
Toil without a hope of fleeing \ 

Death descending covers all. 
Sunshine now is storm hereafter ; 
Death tracks life, and sorrow laughter ; 

Darkness on our day doth fall. 



244 MAN. 

Therefore, when this clause thou readest, 
See that thou the lesson heedest ; 

Man, thy life is figured clear ; 
In what state thou earnest hither, 
What to-day thou art, and whither 

Tend thy steps, examine here. 

Weep the cost of past transgression, 
Wail thy sin, tame pride and passion, 

Cast thy haughtiness away; 
Eeinsman of the mind and master, 
Guard thy trust, lest foul disaster 

Find thee unawares astray. 



245 



LOVE IN DEATH. 

Hearken and heed my call, 
Zion's true daughters all ; 
Pity me, faint and sick, 
Tell ye my true love quick : — 
Wounded of love I lie, 
Wounded of love I die ! 

Slow creep the languid hours ; 
Pillow my head with flowers ; 
With fairest fruit of gold 
Pray you my form enfold ; 
Fife that no tears can stay 
Eateth my heart away ! 



Sisters, with haste prepare 
Woods of all odours rare, 



246 LOVE IN DEATH. 

Breathing the boon of sleep : 
Pile them up broad and deep. 
Mine be that Phoenix-pyre ! 
Thence will I mount in fire ! 

Whether love pain may prove, 
Whether pain be but love, 
I have no skill to tell— 
This only know I well \ 
If pain but love may be, 
Pain seemeth sweet to me. 

When will thy torments cease % 
Hence with reprieve or peace ! 
Break this slow agony ; 
Moments are years to me : 
Death-pains so lingering, 
Ah, love ! thy wounds do bring ! 

Break, Spirit, break thy chain, 
Sunder life's cords in twain ! 






LOVE IN DEATH. 24' 

Lo, to the halls sublime 
Yearns the pure flame to climb ! 
Heaven in my view doth stand : 
There is my fatherland ! 



248 



THE DAY OF DEATH. 

(Peter Damianl— Died a.d. 1072.) 

Heavily with dread thou looniest, last day of my 

earthly life \ 
Heart and melting reins within me shudder at the 

mortal strife, 
When I would inform my spirit with what horrors 

thou art rife ! 

Who can dare the scene discover that doth compass 
thee about, 

When the feeble flesh uncoileth, and life's span is 
measured out, 

And the soul reluctant rushes on the mystery with- 
out? 



THE DAY OF DEATH. 249 

Sense is dead, the dry tongue stiffens, and the eyes 

grow dim for death, 
And the sick man's breast is heaving, and his hoarse 

throat gasps for breath, 
Blanched his cheeks, his limbs hang nerveless, and his 

beauty vanisheth. 



Things he wrought, and thought, and uttered, in the 

years he lived below, 
Rob him of his rest ; dread visions round his couch of 

anguish grow, 
Come up from the Past and daunt him, hunt his 

glances to and fro. 



Then the thought of ended action doth his lonely 

spirit stirjg ; 
Then his conscience racks him ever with untimely 

visiting ; 
But his terrible repentance cometh now a fruitless 

thing. 



250 THE DAY OF DEATH. 

In that hour are very bitter all the sweetnesses of 

earth, 
When the endless retribution tracks the footsteps of 

his mirth ; 
All that once was grand and glorious seemeth to him 

nothing-worth. 






Christ, Invincible, I pray Thee help me ; Lord, respect 

my moan ; 
When the last dark hour is on me and I journey 

hence alone, 
Suffer not the powers of evil then to claim me for 

their own. 

Slay in me the Prince of darkness \ let hell fall Th y 
grace before ! 

Thy lost sheep, redeemed for ever, then unto Thy fold 
restore, 

There to dwell in contemplation of Thy glory ever- 
more. 



251 



FUNERAL HYAEBT. 

(Prudentius. — Born a.d. 348.) 

Ee silent, ye sorrowful voices, 
Give pause to your tears, Q ye mothers, 
Let none mourn his pledges departed, 
This death is our life's renovation. 

So burst the dry seeds into verdure 
From death and the grave and the darkness, 
So fresh from earth's chambers returning 
They aspire to the forms of their fathers. 

Xow therefore, Earth, take him and cherish, 
Now soft in thy bosom bestow him : 
These members of man are thy portion, 
These lordly remains I intrust thee. 



252 FUNERAL HYMN. 

This once was the home of the spirit, 
As it came from the mouth of the Maker, 
Arid wisdom of old in these chambers, 
Dwelt fervid with Christ for its Master. 



Then cover the corse that we lend thee, 
Who fashioned the form will remember 
To reclaim what He lent, and the features 
That glass His own countenance darkly. 



And when the time comes as it will come 
That God gives to hope her fulfilment, 
Thou must yield from thy loosened embraces 
This shape as I gave it thee, perfect. 



And not, though the mouldering ages 
Dismantle the bones that lie buried, 
Though all that hereafter remaineth 
Be less than a handful of ashes, 



FUNERAL HYMN. 253 

Though breezes and blasts, as they wander 
'Mid the realms of the infinite ether, 
These sinews with dust-grains commingle — 
Not so shall the man ever perish. 



But while the dead frame, as it crumbles, 
Thou, Lord, to new uses art moulding, 
What region of rest hast Thou hallowed 
Wherein the pure spirit may linger ? 



It shall lie upon Abraham's bosom, 
Where Lazarus lieth, and Dives 
Beholds him, encircled with flowers, 
Far off, from the flames of his torment. 



Sweet Saviour, Thy word is our warrant, 
Which gave, when by death Thou didst triumph, 
That robber, Thy dying companion, 
Thine Eden-ward footsteps to follow. 



254 FUNERAL HYMN. 

Lo, shining afar, to the faithful 

The path into Paradise opens ! 

Lo, now we may enter the garden 

Once lost through the wiles of the Serpent ! 

With green leaves and violets ever 
These bones will we lovingly cherish, 
And the cold stone and legend engraven 
With sweet-smelling balm will we sprinkle. 



255 



DIES IKiE. 

(Thomas of Celano.— About a.d. 1230.) 

Day of anger, day of wonder, 
When the world shall roll asunder, 
Quenched in fire and smoke and thunder ! 

vast terror, wild heart-rending, 
Of that hour when Earth is ending, 
And her jealous Judge descending; 

When the trumpet's voice astoundeth, 
Through earth's sepulchres reboundeth, 
Summons universal soundeth ! 

Death astonied, Nature shaken, 
Sees all creatures, as they waken, 
To that dire tribunal taken. 



256 dies mm. 

Lo ! the Book, where all is hoarded, 
If ot a secret unrecorded : 
Every doom is thence awarded. 



So the Judge, when He arraigneth, 
Every hidden thing explaineth ; 
Nothing unavenged remaineth. 



In that fiery revelation 

Where shall I make supplication, 

When 'the just hath scarce salvation? 



Eount of Love, dread King supernal, 

Freely giving life eternal, 

Save me from the pains infernal ! 



This forget not, sweet Life-giver, 
Me Thou earnest to deliver : 
Cast me not away for ever ! 



dies mm. 257 

Seeking me Thy sad life lasted, 

On the cross death's pains were tasted ; 

Let not toil like this be wasted ! 



God of righteous retribution, 
Grant my sins full absolution 
Ere Thy wrath's last execution ! 



Lo, I stand with face suffused, 
Groaning, in my guilt accused ; 
Spare my soul, with sorrow bruised ! 



By the Magdalene forgiven, 
By the dying robber shriven, 
I too cherish hope of heaven. 



Though my prayers are full of failing, 
Save me, of Thy grace availing, 
From the pit of endless wailing ! 



258 dies IR^:. 

On Thy right a place provide me, 
"With Thy chosen sheep beside me : 
From the goats, good Lord, divide me ! 

When to penal fire are driven 
Those who would not he forgiven. 
Call me with Thy saints to heaven ! 

Kneeling, crushed in heart, before Thee, 
Sad and suppliant I adore Thee : 
Hear me, save me, I implore Thee ! 



645 



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